DWDDT4 And the Rest is History
by VAPX007
Summary: While Scrooge McDuck works on the hostile vampire situation that's now spread to Duckburg, F.O.W.L. is still quietly digging a huge hole in midtown St Canard. Drake Mallard faces off against Darkwing Duck and there can only be one winner. Follows directly on from the events of Of Toys and Curses
1. Vampires in Duckburg

_A/n: No ownership, only story._

* * *

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**37**

**Vampires in Duckburg**

* * *

It was nighttime. The sound of gunfire rang through the air, echoing off the exterior wall of the warehouse. The fight was outside a small unmarked side door under the light of the nearby street post. Scrooge McDuck in his red outfit and top hat, Mrs Beakley in her usual grey, the shining white metal of Gizmoduck and two security guards in uniforms were fending off four vampires.

As Beakley risked using the crossbow, a vampire grabbed her. Scrooge landed the stake and the vampire disintegrated, leaving Mrs Beakley standing free in a cloud of dust. She raised the crossbow and let fly a bolt making another dust cloud just behind him.  
"Crikey, Moe!"  
"Leg it!"

Another gun shot. Scrooge spun around watching the last two vampires zipping out of sight. Gizmoduck gave chase. "Ach."

"Darn!" Mrs Beakley gritted having raised her reloaded crossbow to see nothing in her sights. "They took off too fast."  
"I swear I winged that guy!" One of the guards exclaimed.  
"It doona take 'em long to heal." Scrooge grumbled, "Cowards."  
Mrs Beakley cleared her throat and dusted herself off.  
Scrooge stared into the distance the way they'd disappeared. "So they've gone to ground and we won't hear of them for another three nights."

Mrs Beakley sighed. "Most unsatisfactory."

* * *

Gizmoduck shortly returned, apologetic. "Sorry sir. Their heat signatures have stopped registering."  
"At least you can see them when they attack now, Gizmoduck. I'm calling that progress. We'll leave you to hold the fort," Scrooge directed. "Mrs Beakley and I will try to dig up information on where these 'Busy Signals' came from."

"Um, 'Busy Signal', sir?" Gizmoduck frowned at him. "That sounds rather..."  
"S.H.U.S.H. identifies four types of vampire," Mrs Beakley explained, "and these two bear the classic behavioural characteristics of the 'Busy Signal' variety. They're not Hotheads since they ran; they're not Loners; and Lurkers don't attack out in the open."

"In which case they're up to something to do with what's in this warehouse." Scrooge finished. "Mrs Beakley and I will go home and try to figure out what that is. Then we can try heading them off tomorrow night rather than wait three days while they get their number up again."  
"Very good sir. Can I offer you two a lift?"  
"I'd rather walk to try to clear my lungs." Mrs Beakley refused. "It's a very dusty job."  
"Thank you, Gizmoduck." Scrooge smiled at him, "Keep scanning for those heat signatures and we'll see you again tomorrow night."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Mrs Beakley and Scrooge McDuck made their way home.

"I think we can't deny the fact now." Mrs Beakley stated, "They must have established a nest here somewhere."  
Scrooge felt grim. "Aye, it's too many nights now."  
"They drifted in easy enough; you'd think they'd 'drift off'." Beakley uttered in mild annoyance.  
"What a sight seeing 'em scarper like that. The moment they realised they were losing they turned tail."  
"Yes," Beakley agreed, "It's very distinctive behaviour. We certainly don't have to keep counting our shadows for this lot."  
"Nor bushes..."

There was silence between them for several house lengths.

"Are you still checking?" She asked presently.  
"Aye." He confessed. "I cannae help it."  
"Then let us be 'paranoid' together." She concluded with a lark.

* * *

They walked their way back to the McDuck Manor in bitter-sweet victory.

"Next time we need to focus our attack on those two." Scrooge muttered taking up the steps. "They're the instigators."  
"From Swinston, judging by their accents."  
"Aye. Let's see if we can track 'em back."

By the porch's light, the pair did one last count of their shadows before opening the door and stepping inside.

Webby in her pink dress, hair clip and grey sweater came racing down the stairs and straight into Mrs Beakley's arms for a hug. "All clear, Grammy." She reported.  
Mrs Beakley smiled down at her granddaughter before looking up to Scrooge. "Some hot chocolate, I think is in order. Sir?"  
Scrooge nodded with a smile, "Aye, sounds grand. I'll be in the study looking into this."

As he passed by the TV room, Scrooge heard the sound of the TV blaring; a swashbuckling adventure in full swing. Della was in there with the boys, yelling excitedly at the screen with them.

* * *

While his computer booted up, Scrooge looked at his phone for the number to call to get to Swinston Police Department. Scrooge lodged the enquiry over the phone with Swinston's night watch operator and settled to looking through the town's public records and news articles at his desk.

Mrs Beakley came in with the tray bearing three mugs. Webby followed and played with the globe in the corner for a moment.

"Swinston's a long way away," Webby observed.

"Funny thing with vampires." Scrooge frowned, turning off his screen. "The more carnage they make the more travelling they've got to do."  
"Oh, that's bad!" Webby understood. "Why Duckburg, though? Why not a big city to make it harder for us to track them? There'd be a stack of warehouses in St Canard. No way we'd even stand a chance at stopping them stealing the stuff they want."  
"Duckburg is roughly the same size as Swinston, Webby." Mrs Beakley compared as she handed Scrooge his hot chocolate.

"The feel of the familiar." Scrooge considered that. "We're all creatures of habit."  
"And we deal with them according to those habits." Mrs Beakley added in a firm tone, "I would say we should be able to give a description to the Swinston police and see about their names and their criminal profiles."  
"Aye." Scrooge agreed, "Already called them. We should get an answer back in the morning."

"Busy Signals are pretty rare." Webby considered. "What are they busy 'doing' I wonder?"  
Scrooge tapped the phone on his desk. "I've given Swinston police department's night shift people a description of the two. Whatever they were doing before they got turned into vampires is what they'll be trying to do now."

* * *

Webby sat down in a spare sitting chair with her hot chocolate. "Vampires are so much cooler in books."  
Scrooge raised an eyebrow at Webby as he sipped his drink, "Oh?"  
"Like, there was this one vampire; he sucked up all the spare life energy around him and whammed it really hard at the other guy he was fighting. The whole story he barely even bit anyone." She shrugged, "If I was going to be a vampire, I'd want to be 'that' guy."  
Scrooge stared at her, "Aye, Webby, that's a very powerful vampire for sure. How did they beat him in that story?"  
"Oh, they didn't." She shrugged lightly. "He won."  
Scrooge glanced at Mrs Beakley in the other sitting chair, drinking her own hot chocolate. He looked back to Webby. "That's certainly something to think about... right before bed..."  
"At least it puts our real problems in perspective." Mrs Beakley returned. "We certainly aren't dealing with anything of epic proportions in Duckburg. We have two vampires trying to break into a warehouse full of farming machinery."  
"True." McDuck agreed, still feeling a might disconcerted by Webby's overpowered vampire story.

"Thank you, Mrs Beakley, it's a very nice hot chocolate." He at last stated.  
"There's not much more we can do tonight." Mrs Beakley noted. "Hopefully Swinston PD will have something back to us in the morning."

"Aye..."

Scrooge was still caught, trying to imagine the scene he'd just been told of. "Wouldn't you rather a story with a happy ending, Webby?"  
Webby blinked, "It was happy. Sort of." She frowned, "There's not a whole lot of non-fiction in the vampire category... It's mostly just romance."

Scrooge widened his eyes and slowly shook his head. "I doona wanna know about any of that, lass."  
"Speaking as a ten year old," Webby declared, "Neither do I. That's why I always ask the librarian first."

* * *

They finished their drinks.

"Off to bed now, Webby." Mrs Beakley prompted.  
"Good night, young Webbigail." Scrooge smiled at her as Webby put her mug on the tray. "You did a splendid job on lookout tonight, lass; thank you."  
Webby beamed at him, "Oh, heh. No worries, Mr McDuck! Goodnight." She trotted out.

Mrs Beakley looked at him as she put the mugs on the tray, "Sir, S.H.U.S.H. has never encountered a vampire of that sort of caliber. In every case the vampire drank blood. Vampires don't suck on 'life energy'. It's simple fiction."

"Doona worry about me, Bentina." He gave her a smile. "Get yourself some rest."  
"Well, one can't say I didn't try." She took the tray. "Good night, sir."

Scrooge sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought.


	2. Knock Knock

**And the Rest is History**

**38**

**Knock Knock**

* * *

_/ /To define overall program parameters  
Securityoverrideauthorizationcode(040118112309140704210311);  
__Theterrorthatflaps(Nonlethalko);_

* * *

_**Knock knock**_

"Oh, what on earth." Morgana moaned as the window pane shook over their heads and the noise ricocheted around the bedroom. "Two mornings in a row?"

Drake was only too happy to be woken up from the pointless monotony of his dreams. "Mr Dovesworth said it was something to do with the family curse being weaker during the day and me being..." he stretched himself awake, "Half asleep at dawn."  
"Please be careful."  
"Come on, Morgana," he marshalled as he went to the closet and pulled a random thing on, "this is _'me'_ we're talking about."

She chuckled sleepily. "Go 'get dangerous', then."

On his way out, he pocketed his phone sitting on the bedside table.

* * *

Drake opened the door and a cloud hit his head. Unseeing, he struggled, slowly wading through the fog till he got clear of it. It felt like a long time, but slowly the world came back into focus.

Larkis sank against the door frame. "I can't..."  
"Mr Dovesworth." Drake helped support him, "let's go to the kitchen."

* * *

Drake gestured for him to sit at the old wooden dining table and put the kettle on. He sat down.

"Mr Dovesworth."  
Larkis, in his trench coat, hat and nondescript brown clothes looked up at him, the sound of water boiling. "You can explain this phenomenon?"  
"Yeah," Drake answered simply. "You're not fighting a curse; you're fighting me." He sighed, "You really just want your medical report?"  
Larkis nodded solemnly.  
Drake pulled out his phone and opened the downloaded files, handed it to Larkis and went to make the tea.

* * *

Drake put the tea things on the table and poured out the tea.

"Metafluxer..." Larkis mused over the report and the teacup in turn. "Thanks."

Drake sat opposite him with his own tea. "Unfortunately I don't know what a metafluxer is, and the only person I can think that might know is Doctor Bellum. She's taken more than a few shots at me. I wouldn't send a fly with a stomach ache into that death trap." He sipped his drink.

"I notice you haven't downloaded the whole case files."  
"You mean all the stuff about Hooter securing S.H.U.S.H. against you?"  
"Ah, good point. Thank you for sparing me the details. I don't want to know."

* * *

"I know you're better at this stuff than me." Drake stated, "But we can still talk through it."  
Larkis nodded.  
"What are your symptoms?"  
Larkis rubbed his face. "I lapse... cross over from this world to another."

Drake sipped his tea, "Like a shadow realm?"  
"More like a mirror..." Larkis picked up his cup.  
"A mirror world. Like you stepped through a mirror and everything isn't the same..."  
Larkis nodded, "But yet it 'is' the same."

"So at the car-."  
_"Please no!"_ Larkis violently shook his head.  
Drake was silent.

Larkis' breathing settled.

"If you can't face it, you can't-."  
"Get to the bottom of it, I know." Larkis shuddered. "It was a terrible place. Full of terrible things. I'm not going back there again."  
Drake stared at Larkis, mystified. "Could it be all those years dealing with ghosts and possessions that make it harder?"  
Larkis shook his head. "No, but they made me susceptible. There was something in that terrible place. It reached through, and touched me."

* * *

Drake tried another line of inquiry. "You say you've been lapsing."  
Larkis nodded. "In the street, at my flat. I can only say how fortunate I am that I haven't seen the terrible things again. All it is now is a mirror world."

"So; people."  
Larkis nodded.

With the terrible things hiding in the shadows of the carnival.

Drake mused, "If we can open up a mirror portal we could go face the problem head on. I could try finding whatever did this and we could maybe even get it to reverse the effect it had on you. If you could just give me something of a description of it."

Larkis shut his eyes. "Too many..." He swallowed. "Beasts, small, long claws. Different."

* * *

"What about the world itself? How is it different from ours?"  
Larkis considered. "Take this house for example. Over there it belongs to someone else."

Drake felt a horror deep inside him. He sat back in his chair, his feathers prickling.

"Who?"  
Larkis shrugged. "The Quailson family. The husband's a stock broker, the wife's a lawyer. Their teenage son likes fast cars, their daughter likes heavy metal and is studying archaeology at the university. Your library is their games room. There's a big billiard table in the middle. The hall is white with gold trim, the floor is black and white checkered tiles."

Drake stood up, unable to sit any longer. This was incomprehensibly terrible.

"A St Canard without Mallards." Through the kitchen doorway, he gazed into the hall. Beyond the wood coloured banister, Sir Quackmire Mallard's armour stood against the wood panelled wall.

"I'll check."

"S-sorry?" Drake blinked, looking down to Larkis at the table. "Check?"  
"The phone directory. Next time I lapse."  
It took Drake a moment to understand what Larkis was saying. "You're suggesting they may have moved? From here? Why?" Why would a Mallard move?  
"There's plenty of normal reasons. Family feuds. Financial difficulty. Like I said, I'll look into it."

Drake slighted a smile at him, "I don't know who they are; if they're not in this house. They might not be as inclined to help you as I am."  
"Duly noted." Larkis stood up. "Thank you."  
"I'll look into this mirror portal thing. It'll probably need calibrating, so don't forget to come back."  
"Thank you, you are very kind."

Drake led Larkis out the front door.


	3. What

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**39**

**What**

* * *

"Drake Mallard."

Darkwing snapped awake with an accompanying pain. The call had come from downstairs. Adult, male, unknown. "Ow, why?" He looked at the clock. "9:50 am? Who does this?" He dragged himself out of bed, glancing at Morgana fast asleep under the covers. He dressed himself and then tried to pull himself together as he went downstairs.

The man was elderly, but spry. Justin had left him to wait in the lounge room. He was dressed for weather in a trench coat and hat. The flash camera hung from his neck told of the man's age. Darkwing couldn't guess his occupation, though he could be a journalist if it were the 1930s.

"I'm very sorry for waking you." The man said on seeing Darkwing.  
Darkwing straightened himself, accepting that he looked pretty poorly at this moment. "It's okay. I just don't usually get visitors until after three."  
The man nodded, "You seem an educated sort. What's your preference when it comes to the four disciplines?"  
"There's a lot of disciplines." Darkwing stated, "Which ones are you referring to?"  
"The four vampire disciplines. Which one do you prefer?"  
"There are five-." Darkwing stopped, realising he was talking to a duck, "You're grilling me for information when I'm half asleep!" He laughed. "You don't live around here. What's your name?"

"Larkis Doveswoth."

* * *

Darkwing motioned for Larkis to join him in the kitchen. He got himself his regular juice and... he considered Larkis' state, a glass of water.

He handed the glass over. "You've done a lot of walking to find me, Dovesworth."

"I must confess I was already in the suburb." Larkis took the water, eyeing the juice, "Thank you."  
"Round trip, huh?" Darkwing took a gulp of his drink.  
"It's nice for a change."

Darkwing took another gulp. Well, this line of inquiry was six feet under. It was possibly the fact he was drinking in front of the guy, he looked down at his juice in his hand. Yeah, he should probably stop doing that. Hello, morning! _Awkward_.

"So, you know... a bit about vampires, huh?" He asked in an embarrassed tone.

"I'm certain you know more."  
Darkwing spun around to the sink and finished his juice. "Yeah, I'll win that contest." He joked weakly, rinsing his glass. "Where do I sign to enter?" He put the glass in the dishwasher.

"I haven't read of a fifth discipline."  
Darkwing straightened and turned, "What do you know of the other disciplines?"  
"The hot head, the lurker, the loner and the busy signal. They each have a different attack and behaviour pattern. They're well documented."

He hadn't heard an insult this early in the day for a while.

"Yeah?" Darkwing retorted, "Where would that be?" He jibed, "a '_criminal database_'?"  
Larkis blinked, "Yes, actually."  
"Oh." Darkwing uttered. This guy was telling the truth. "Then yes." Darkwing said soberly. "Keep doing what you're doing."

"The fifth discipline though?"  
"It's heart." Darkwing shrugged.  
Larkis puzzled, "It seems an odd one out."  
"Judging by your list of incorrigibles, I should think so." Darkwing stepped through the kitchen door to head back.

* * *

"You have a library?"  
Darkwing turned at the door to the lounge and followed Larkis into the back room instead.  
"Oh, I beg your pardon." Larkis said to Justin sitting, reading in the sunbathed window seat.

"Magic?"  
The sudden curiosity in Larkis' tone made Darkwing stop. Larkis didn't come here after magic and definitely not to wake 'him' up about it. This was a personal thing.  
"It interests me." Justin replied. "What level are you?"

"Not high enough to know what the levels are." Larkis answered in good humour. "When I was young, I did a magic show."  
"Then you're probably a level two conjurer." Justin nodded, "Have you met many people with higher magic skills than you?"

Larkis paused, thinking, "They're not as _'personable'_ as you are, though that's possibly more to do with me looking down the end of my wand at them than anything else."  
Justin's eyes lit up. "Wow, at level two! That's real talent." He smiled, impressed.

Darkwing struggled back a yawn.

* * *

From an inside pocket of his trench coat, Larkis pulled out a folded slip of paper. "I was looking to try and unravel this."

Darkwing rubbed his head. He had a great urge to go back to bed at this moment. Justin unfolded the page and his heart rate shifted. Darkwing snapped awake.

Justin looked up at Larkis, "Where did you get this? This is new ink! Where did you get this?" He asked in quiet excitement.  
"What?" Darkwing asked in new interest.

Justin held up the page to him. "Everyone who's alive with this curse is a vampire. To get these results, you need to do a full analysis. That takes hours. Even Mallard blood doesn't hold out that long."

"Yet here it is, huh?" Darkwing folded his arms and slumped against the door frame, looking at Larkis. "That's some magic trick."

* * *

Justin took the page to the study desk and began writing notes in his notepad there. A new spell was always Justin's favourite toy.

Larkis frowned at Darkwing. "I'd be very happy to be free of the ability. I've spent the last forty years living in two universes. The only job I'm good for is being a paranormal investigator. That said, I've spent forty years on first name basis with the police in charge of breaking and entering disputes."

Darkwing frowned, "You have no control over it?"  
"None." Larkis answered hollowly. "Although I get a bonus trip anytime I get startled."

So a synaptic trigger. "What caused it?"

Larkis flinched and shuddered, tried to answer, then looked away instead.

Darkwing felt a wave of dread coming from Larkis.

* * *

"Paranormal investigating," Darkwing lightly changed the topic, "Sounds like a tough job to me."

"Not usually." Larkis was momentarily grateful, "It's mostly just ghosts. Occasionally I get a curse investigation." He turned to Justin, "It doesn't have all the indicators needed to make it a HEA curse."

Justin looked over his shoulder to Larkis, pen still in hand. "It's not a curse, it's an enchantment; that's why you're having trouble deciphering it." He said in contained excitement.

Darkwing smiled. So long as his son was enjoying the puzzle.

"The person who designed this was a genius!" Justin enthused.  
"Is there a way to break it?" Larkis asked.  
"Why?!" Justin answered incredulously. "You can't undo something if you don't know the reason it was done. It could be bad." Justin picked up his notebook and stood up, handing it to Darkwing. "Look familiar?"

* * *

_Air, __Earth_

_Heart_

_Water, Fire_

* * *

"That's impossible." Darkwing frowned. "I wasn't born a vampire."

"No, but I was." Justin answered. "You know how much trouble I have fitting into that category and I'm only one generation down. We could have had an ancestor just like me."  
Darkwing looked at his son. "They didn't write that in the family tree book."  
"No." Justin added. "Nothing."

"He was smoking."

Darkwing looked at Larkis, "Smoking?"  
"The other you." Larkis stated, "The other Drake Mallard. He made a very good show."  
Darkwing chuckled. "Thanks." He took the inter-versal compliment and handed the notepad back to Justin.

Back to the actual reason Larkis had come here, Darkwing resolved; "Dovesworth, you're an experienced hypnotist, right?"  
"Of course."  
"I can do that with you." Darkwing explained, "and we can get to the bottom of-."

Larkis vanished.

Heartbeats, vitals; everything gone. Not a death echo. Just a deep black hole of non-existence before him. All that was left to say he hadn't imagined Larkis Dovesworth was the tiny residual trace of carbon dioxide he'd left in the air.

_"What?!"_ He turned his horrified gaze to Justin.

Justin was just as wide-eyed.

There was silence between them.

* * *

Darkwing resisted the impulse to jump immediately after Larkis. "I follow him..." he gestured to the empty space, thinking ahead, "And whose house am I walking directly into?"

"Here, use this instead." Justin turned to the desk and picked up the alchemical note. "You need it more than I do."  
Darkwing gazed at the markings on the page. "What do you think the motive is behind this?"  
"Dad..."  
"I'm going over there." He stated plainly, "I need a peace offering."

Justin took the paper back, going over the markings, considering. He put it on the table and pulled a book from his collection. "There's nothing on vampires in this book." He said opening it up. "But it looks like one of these. That enchantress must've worked on it for months."

Darkwing looked over his son's shoulder to the index page. "Christening gifts."

" 'I... bestow the gift of heart to this vampire child. May it always be his, and his son's, son's guide.' The incantation would've gone something like that."  
Darkwing's beak twitched. "Happily ever after?"  
Justin shook his head, "Happy beginning." He flicked through the book. "Yep, I'm pretty sure." He pulled Larkis' page out from under and on top of the book. "Heh." He chuckled, "That was fun." He handed it to Darkwing and then put the book back into the cupboard.

Darkwing felt that status quo was closing in fast. He looked over at the book Justin had been reading, recognising the cover instantly. "You know, I'm going out for a while; want me to pick you up a mallet for your head on the way back?"  
"No." Justin picked up the book and sat back down on the chair, "I'm fine."  
"Still not getting this engagement stuff?" He swallowed.  
"No." Justin said in an equal tone, "I'm fine."  
"Are you here right now?" He asked in slight annoyance.  
"No." Justin answered, opening the book. "I'm fine."  
"There's eight letters in that answer, you're only allowed seven." Darkwing gritted.  
Justin paused for a split second, "All good."

Darkwing sighed in defeat and looked down at the note. "Heart." Somewhere on the page.  
"Shield."  
Darkwing blinked, looked to Justin with his eyes fixed on the book. "Shield?"  
"Heart shield. Her favourite spell." Justin uttered, not looking up.

"Oh." Darkwing rolled his eyes, now there was an anti-climax he should've seen coming. "See you next year, son!" He signed out of the non-conversation and stepped out of the library room. "He's about as distant as this alternate universe is." Darkwing muttered to himself and returned to thinking about the case.

"How do I plan when I can't see? I need to see. That's my plan." He reflected, "I haven't used the '_two round_' strategy in ages."


	4. Doppelganger

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**40**

**Doppelganger**

* * *

The alternate universe's S.H.U.S.H. was in the same three story sandstone building, but this one was unmarked. Not even a flagpole stood to attention. J Gander Hooter had a feeling of misgiving as he stepped across the tiled floor devoid of the justice emblem to the front receptionist. It looked in here like some kind of casual hotel rather than the bustling police-assist department he'd just come from. There wasn't a hint to be seen anywhere that a government funded organisation's flagship office operated within these walls.

"Excuse me." He addressed the receptionist behind the desk, "I'm from an alternate universe. My name's J Gander and I'm making an enquiry for a-" he cleared his throat, "an '_important witness_' who has gone missing. His name is Larkis Dovesworth."  
"Hold on, just a second."

He waited.

"Protocols require a DNA sample to assess your ID record against S.H.U.S.H. personnel files."

J Gander stopped, blinking at that. "Forgive me, but I'm from an alternative universe," he repeated. "For all you know, I can have exactly the same DNA but work for... F.O.W.L."  
"I still need to verify your ID, sir."  
J Gander shrugged uneasily. He plucked a feather for the sample checker machine. "James Gander Hooter." He recited his name. "May I ask what protocol this is?"  
"Darkwing Duck protocol, sir. We have at least one agent with at least one doppelganger."  
"Well, I'm telling you I _'am'_ a doppelganger..." He frowned.

The receptionist handed him a lanyard. "Director's office first floor west side."  
What on earth was this nonsense? J Gander frowned at the plastic card hanging on a shoelace; "You cannot just _'give'_ me free access to a highly secure area of the building. That security check is anything but sufficient!"  
"Sorry sir, we don't have the staff to meet the requirement you specify."

J Gander frowned in resignation, "I see _'that'_ problem has decided to repeat itself."

* * *

Up the stairs, the onset of doors in all four directions was highly confronting and filled him with foreboding. J Gander stepped up to the west door. It was locked. The plastic card from the receptionist? He pressed it to the security panel and the door unlocked with a click.

Through the door he stepped to discover himself in a tight corridor.

Anxiety filled him.

* * *

_I'm in a coffin!_

* * *

It took several moments for J Gander to brace himself against the irrational feelings. Coffins didn't have multiple doors, coffins were a great deal more confining than this. This was just a corridor designed to give the feeling of being trapped in a confined space. This was merely a practical exercise in resisting psychological terror.

_There is no coffin. It's the same path; only narrower._

J Gander pressed on. He knew _'where'_ the director's office was. The additional walls and doors were merely attempts to addle and confuse him. For someone who had spent almost his entire working life in this place, he immediately knew which doors were right and wrong.

* * *

A few intervening doors saw him through to the PA desk. Different again. It was cleared and vacant; a disused desk. No one worked at this table. This meant that the director had no personal security.

Another ill-feeling for the pot. His feathers prickled uncomfortably as J Gander knocked on the door.

* * *

The door opened and the towering form of Vladimir Grizlykoff appeared. J Gander stared up at him in absolute amazement.

"Director Grizlykoff?" He asked uncertainly.  
"Yes," Grizlykoff smiled.  
"I'm J Gander." J Gander hurried before the situation got worse, "from an alternate-."

"Yes, I am informed. Larkis Dovesworth is a name from very old files in system, but he is in our system."

J Gander sighed in relief, "Well, thank goodness he's somewhere. He vanished while in the middle of giving an account. We were able to trace his residual signature to this universe and recreate a passage. It's a matter of importance that we find him; he seemed very distressed about the subject he was attempting to recount."  
"What account was this?"  
"Unfortunately we didn't get very far before he disappeared," J Gander shook his head, "Something caused him physical injury and frightened him terribly while doing so. So you can see, sir, how we are doubly concerned about finding him."

Grizlykoff was silent, studying him. "Perhaps we get coffee. Is time for break and one cannot function without." The director shut his door and led J Gander back through the narrow corridors.

J Gander followed silent and puzzled. What an odd encounter. Was it seeing someone alive who was dead? Or how exceptionally calm Grizlykoff's mannerism was? J Gander checked his watch. 10:20 am. Close, but no schedule. Chaos! Who was this fellow?

* * *

The coffee smelled the same.

J Gander sat down opposite Grizlykoff at the table. The set up wasn't too different from his universe, the wide sunny windows to his right, the kitchenette to his left.

"May I ask how you manage without a personal assistant? I would surely go mad."  
Grizlykoff smiled, "She is training cadets. Computer run schedule, receptionist at front desk; is best can do."  
J Gander frowned, "I am sorry you've been left in such a predicament. It is very difficult to find the person with the standing qualities required for Assistant Director."  
"Yes, is true." Grizlykoff looked into his mug. "Biggest difficulty is maintaining Protocol 5 adherence."  
J Gander nodded. "You can't promote."  
"I figured way around that." Grizlykoff smiled, "Applied principle learn from army." He drank. "Is good for comradery."

J Gander smiled at that, then frowned, "But you're still addressing protocol 5 as an issue. But it's simply a matter of your own conduct."  
"Ya, but also there is nobody to check me."  
"Ah." J Gander sank back unhappily. "The luxury afforded by a team."  
"Protocol 1."

"Indeed." J Gander looked to the rich brown liquid in his cup, "For whomsoever shall be bound..."

"Sorry?"  
J Gander shook himself to attention. "We are a team. We fight together we confer together, we pool our resources together."  
"Ya, but what about filing?"  
"Is there a point of contention I'm not aware of?" J Gander raised an eyebrow.

"I am merely seeking your opinion of matter."

"Hum. Very well. My opinion is: 'What is S.H.U.S.H. if we cannot collect the data we gather into something useful?' May I ask the purpose of this verification check?"

Grizlykoff shrugged. "Does S.H.U.S.H. run well in your universe?"  
J Gander straightened. "I say it runs very well."  
"You not have staffing issue?"  
J Gander cleared his throat, "The Assistant Director appreciates quality over quantity. What of your office?"

"Ah, good." Grizlykoff straightened in his seat, looking behind J Gander.

* * *

J Gander turned in his seat to stare in astonishment at the two individuals walking into the cafeteria. He stood up.

His suspicion of his duplicate's death was unfounded to see him standing there and beside him in a starchy purple stood a vision deeply entrenched in his mind. The purple was catching.

"Darkwing Duck." The name slipped J Gander's beak and he admonished his lapse, "Forgive me; I'm J Gander." He frowned upset at himself, "I'm looking for a person called Larkis Dovesworth."  
His duplicate's face immediately contorted, "You're looking for a very dangerous individual."

"You're from the mirror universe?" Darkwing enquired in a lighter tone.  
"Mirror universe?" The duplicate repeated.  
"Larkis recently came to my house looking for help," Darkwing explained, "I'm of the opinion that if we can find the creature that caused the metaflux, we'll be able to discover, or even persuade it, to fix the problem."

_'Metaflux'?_

"You haven't filed this." Agent Hooter noted in frustration.  
"It's not a S.H.U.S.H. case." Darkwing stated, "He came to me personally for help. For one thing, you know he'd never come to S.H.U.S.H. for help."  
"Have you shared S.H.U.S.H. files with him?" Agent Hooter asked heatedly.  
"He's entitled by law to his own medical report," Darkwing replied in irritation. "Would you rather take it up with me, or the court, Hooter?"

J Gander sighed, "So, I see _'you'_ two don't get along... Look, we need to find this fellow; by the way he was talking it was very serious and that's not something we tolerate in our universe and as I hazard a guess; neither do you."  
"He'll come back when he can." Darkwing advised in a mild tone.

J Gander stared at his quiet calm in horror, "But what if he doesn't come back?"  
"Then we can't help him with his problem."

What was this attitude? "My goodness." J Gander breathed. "You're someone else."  
"And you're not S.H.U.S.H." Darkwing returned casually.  
He'd been waiting for this one, J Gander frowned, "I never said I was working for S.H.U.S.H.."

"But you are S.H.U.S.H.," Grizlykoff interrupted from behind. "In fact, director."

"I have only given my name." J Gander turned to Grizlykoff, "Director, may I strongly suggest you enlist a protocol officer to examine the machinations of this office in light of the alternate universe duplicate phenomenon." He held up his lanyard. "I could be the worst possible version of myself. That's something you need to know well in advance of meeting me."

J Gander frowned, turning back to Darkwing, "So help me if we cannot find this man quickly the matter will escalate and not necessarily in a manner you appreciate."  
"What are you threatening us with?" Darkwing asked seriously.  
"Yes, it's a very vague threat." Agent Hooter agreed.

"May I assure you," J Gander swallowed, "It's not a threat; it's a countdown. We have till sunset. Then it's out of our hands."  
Agent Hooter started. "I real-."  
"Help him." Grizlykoff cut off Agent Hooter. "If he says is serious it is."  
"Sir!" Agent Hooter objected, "We cannot provoke this individual! It is no small matter in the manner he killed Doctor Vykes."  
"Then do not do what Doctor Vykes did; he cannot mirror if you do not do, is simple."  
"Mirror," Darkwing repeated, "there's a mirror in his head."  
"Nonsense." Agent Hooter left at a tempestuous pace.

Darkwing smiled at Grizlykoff, "We're right on it, sir." He said cheerfully and turned to leave.

"Thank you for your assistance, Director Grizlykoff." J Gander thanked him. Then he turned back and fell in step with Darkwing.

* * *

"Is my duplicate always like that? Going off in a huff?"

"No, well, I mean, it is usually him, but I do it sometimes. Like that time he exploded a truck in my face. I was seriously not happy with that."  
J Gander swallowed. "I'll make a note not to do that."

They came up on Agent Hooter glaring at a standing computer station. He turned away from the computer, passing between them as he left. "Larkis Dovesworth lives in apartment 506 in the Listrum building."

J Gander hurried after him, "You found him very quickly."  
"There are only three buildings he could be living in and two of them aren't tall enough."

* * *

The three crossed the road and got upstairs to the door marked 506. Darkwing knocked. "Mr Dovesworth? You were talking to someone earlier today?"

The sound of silence.

Darkwing sighed, "If he was here he's gone ou...t the window _what-are-you-doing?_"  
Agent Hooter jimmied the lock. "Call me manically curious of the man whose been watching me for forty years." Agent Hooter opened the door wide and stepped inside.

Darkwing sighed in displeasure and followed.

J Gander stepped in after them, looking about at a strange sort of science lab. "What is all this to-do?"  
"He's a paranormal investigator." Darkwing answered.

"It looks like he was investigating you rather than me." Agent Hooter picked up a book. "History texts from the library."  
"Old fashioned blood work tests." J Gander noted the small half empty vial of blood in the rack on the table.  
"Oh. That's mine too." Darkwing stated in a mild tone, considering the wide open window and the billowing curtains.

That was very emotionless! J Gander looked up from the blood sample, "Good heavens are you alright?"  
Darkwing turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, are you alright?"  
"You're taking this exceedingly well."  
"He's a detective who came to me for help."  
"How did he get your blood though?" J Gander prompted.  
"Um, I was unconscious while there were no snipers on the roof. He had sufficient cause to want to check it."

"I told you!" Agent Hooter stated, stopping his brief search through the folders in the top archive box.  
"He hasn't been violent, Hooter. In fact he rescued me from Doctor Bellum." Darkwing argued back, "And he asked me for help."

"You speak so strangely." J Gander commented, "In one second I know you and another I don't." He looked at the blood sample again.

"If we've frightened him off then we've failed. No matter how many times we manage to catch up we will always fail." He sighed regretful. "I'm sorry. There's nothing more we can do." He turned and left the apartment.

* * *

They followed him back to the lift, "You're giving up this easily?" Agent Hooter asked.

"We've established that Larkis Dovesworth lives here, but unfortunately unapproachable by S.H.U.S.H.. One must attend to matters they can be of any use; Director Grizlykoff was seeking my attention, I will see what I may do to help him."  
"And you're not bothered about it?" Agent Hooter redirected. "What about this threat you were giving us earlier?"  
J Gander shook his head, "One can't dwell on the inevitable; we simply have to manage ourselves around it."

"My goodness, you killed SQ." Agent Hooter breathed as the lift doors opened.  
J Gander tried to remember 'SQ', who he may have killed, if inadvertently. They left the building.

J Gander stopped as they got to the curb, shaking his head. "Sorry. You're going to have to jog my memory."  
"SQ: tag _'vampire'." _Agent Hooter answered.  
"We have no vampire agents by that abbreviation."  
"Forty years ago." Agent Hooter added.  
"We didn't know about vampires forty..." J Gander paused, considering. They made off across the street.

* * *

They got to reception. J Gander turned, "Agent Hooter, are you telling me there is a hostile vampire situation in this version of St Canard?"  
Agent Hooter stared at him. "I'm not currently appraised of the situation, but-."

J Gander cleared his throat, "Thank you, Agent, I'll add it to the agenda." He turned to the receptionist, "Agent Lorres, I have today. I cannot guarantee tomorrow. Please schedule a meeting for me with Director Grizlykoff at his earliest convenience. I'll wait for him in the cafeteria." He turned, "Thank you for your assistance, agents. Feel free to return to your prior engagements."

As he walked away, just out of regular hearing distance, he heard:

"What do you think of that?"  
"I kinda like him."  
"Oh, for goodness sake." Agent Hooter uttered. "How far off are you with the program?"  
"And I thought 'I' was the one without any emotional control."  
"That's not an answer."  
"And you're not my boss."

J Gander cringed. Low level resentment. That was the most emotion this Darkwing had.

There was something seriously wrong with this universe.


	5. Heartless

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**41**

**Heartless**

* * *

The skyrise complex had long since been abandoned. Bird Cage Apartments stood tall and destitute.

The top floor balcony afforded a grand central view of the city's northerly aspect. Darkwing sat against the wall, staring out at the clouds drifting by. Gradually the hues began to deepen from bright blue and friendly white puffs of cloud to purple with greyish pink wafts dipped in gold.

The wall at his back trembled again. Another distant shriek from the depths within.

"Hey, boss, any clue why there's no one living here?" Steelbeak asked from the other side of the doorway, looking over at him from his book.  
"Ghosts." Darkwing answered slowly. "Apparently they're a thing in this universe."  
"Yeah, funny." Steelbeak snorted, considering his empty travel mug for moment, "There I was thinking this capitalist's nightmare was coz' of roaches."

Darkwing chuckled.

"Ghosts don't buy real estate and this place hasn't been burnt down or nothing. You got a look at 'em. Figure on how they died?"  
"They're miners. They would've died in a cave in." Darkwing answered easily. "No mystery there. How's the book?"  
"Eh, it's not too bad. Needs more coffee though." Steelbeak shrugged and stretched. "Man, give a guy till sunset, huh?"  
"No rest for the 'Acting Assistant Director'." Darkwing answered.  
Steelbeak turned to him, his eyes wide, "That sounds like fun! Can I play too?"

Darkwing chuckled, "Maybe."

"Eh, he's 'Acting Whatever' and you still don't know nothing?" Steelbeak frowned.  
"Vice versa."  
Steelbeak tossed the book on the balcony floor with a snort. "Hooter got a name on the guy who broke our rattle?"  
"Doctor Bellum." Darkwing answered. "Some quack called 'Doctor Vykes' left her some real nasty toys and she used them. How about it, Steely? Someone so curious about you, they're just salivating to get you on their slab for a brainectomy?"  
"Erk, no thanks; I got enough on my plate already." Steelbeak shook his head. "She should ship over to F.O.W.L.. They'd give her a bigger lab and a better pay check."

Darkwing chuckled.

"Fortunately, it's only one count of obsessive compulsion."  
"Yeesh." Steelbeak shrugged uncomfortably. "How come she had to pick 'our' target?"  
Darkwing shrugged. "I've sat here a while trying to figure that out, Steelbeak. I've come to the conclusion that it's the cape."  
"Eh, chicks." Steelbeak rolled his eyes.  
"The funny thing is, our Sara Bellum doesn't have a cape fetish."

Steelbeak was silent for a moment.

* * *

From deep under, an ethereal wailing rose up into the hollow apartment. The walls shook.

"Those ghosts really love to party." Steelbeak commented.  
"Like it's 1699."

Steelbeak chuckled. "Pity about the kids."  
"Hooter keeps thinking of a 'Doctor Andrews'. He must've been one of them." Darkwing frowned. "Doctor Vykes must've been the runner up."  
"So what do we do about our rattle?" Steelbeak redirected.  
"Well, asking nicely doesn't work..." Darkwing sighed and shook his head. "Asking not-so-nicely also doesn't work..."  
Steelbeak shook his head. "That sure don't sound like you."  
"Because I have a heart." Darkwing answered. "So long as I have a brain to think, I'm going to react to what you say."  
"Eh, tough break."  
"Yeah? Me or him?"

Steelbeak chuckled.

* * *

"If I was him..." Darkwing stopped, hearing an irregular sound a street over. He stood up and moved to the edge of the balcony, looking down on the streets below.

"Talking about spooks, where do you reckon this Dovesworth guy's hiding? Apart from under someone's bed."  
"I don't know..." Darkwing answered. "But I'll know him when I see him." What was that movement on the street? He knelt down. Heartbeats. Heat signatures. What were those two up to? A store break-in. On his watch? Ha!  
"Uh, boss..."

"I'm hungry."

* * *

Darkwing dove down to perch on the lamppost nearest the jewelry store. Before he could take purchase, something knocked him bodily to the ground.

"Ow." The voice from his attacker came as he got up off his back.

Darkwing got up on his elbow, turning to face his attacker. With a swish of cape he was dismissed for the criminals, but the criminals had already broken into a run.

_Mine._

Darkwing sped his mind to the place ahead of the criminals, formed shape and raised his cape with a loud threatening growl.

_Terror. Delicious._

The criminals scrabbled, turned back up the street, only to collapse at the other Darkwing's feet.

"Well," the other said, "You'll be safe in prison," he finished encouragingly as he put handcuffs on them.

_It was almost amusing._

Unfortunately, Darkwing could feel a distinctive hollowness behind his duplicate's words that sucked the life clear out of the party. Darkwing eased the gap between them as his duplicate secured the burglars to a nearby pole for police pickup.

As he approached, he saw the emotional field before him like a jigsaw puzzle. Air, water, earth, water, fire, earth, air, fire. Discordance was laced together like sutures over a wound. Compensating for the damage.

Where was this guy's heart? Hidden in a lower layer? or was it somewhere in the box with the rest of the unmatched puzzle pieces?

_Last steps, make a decision._

Darkwing knew what 'he'd' want to hear and stepped up beside his counterpart, arms folded.

**"A-anytime you're ready to put your ego down,"** he challenged in a low moody tone; **"Darkwing Duck."** Then he cast his mind to return to the apartment.

* * *

Echoing into the desolate darkness behind, Steelbeak's voice was cackling in a fit of laughter.

Darkwing raised an eyebrow, "It wasn't _'that'_ funny." He turned to the motion on the street. "I thought he was a vampire hunter for a second."

The heartless took one look around and started crossing the street, a direct beeline for Bird Cage Apartments.

_"He kicked you off the bad-gum lamp post!" _Steelbeak chortled.  
"He knew exactly where I was going to be." Darkwing gritted, "Just like he knows exactly where I am now."

Steelbeak silenced himself. "Boss, that ain't a good idea you're cooking up."  
_"Y'reckon?"_ Darkwing countered, mocking his accent, "This is a whole new city, Steelbeak, what am I supposed to do? Relearn everyone's names?"

"You can fix a rattle, boss. No sweat."  
Darkwing smiled bitterly. "Unfortunately, 'I'm' not the kind of rattle that takes a hand out, Steelbeak. I say _'let me help you'_ he's going to say _'no, I'm fine'_ then I ask again and he says _'what do you want' _and my answer will send him out for a stake. In three years I might persuade him into admitting he's got a problem; if he doesn't dust me first."

He gestured to the heartbeats starting up the stairs, "This guy's got more crossed lines than the Fearsome Four doing a Hamlet recital in a train yard and he's standing directly in the way of me helping someone who actually asked me for help."  
Steelbeak flinched, "Yeah, well, don't count me in on it." He picked up his book, went in through to the bedroom and shut the door.  
"Yeah, I always count you in on it, Steely." Darkwing retorted and turned back to looking at the nighttime view.

A puzzle.

Heartbeats continued to rise up the stairwell. He was using the grapple.

A puzzle indeed.

* * *

The door opened. Unceremonious.

**"How do I approach..."** Darkwing began in quiet melodrama, addressing the heartless behind him, **"The creature who would knock me off my own perch before I was even physically there?"** He stepped across the threshold. _'You are not in control here; I am.'_

The creature had been ready to say something, but now only visibly stiffened.

He slowly circled. **"You would have to know exactly what I was thinking as I was thinking it."** _'You have value.'_

"I though you wouldn't drink..."

_'You have worth.'_ He came up behind, taking a light hold. **"Not for food."** He amended, leaning in. **"And you're not food."  
**"Tell me what you want."  
Darkwing chuckled, _"But you already know..."_ Blood sprang into his beak. Rich and hot.

The heartless gave a light gasp.

_Larkis Dovesworth. 5:30 am. The manor._

Darkwing let go, eyes closed, savoring the taste. Mallard, with the deeply recessed trace of the vampire.  
Heartless spun away from his loose grip, holding his hand to his neck. "What have you..."

Darkwing gazed back at the creature. The room went visually spinning from body heat to gloom between them.  
The other's face contorted as realisation set in. "No..." He staggered backwards, looking away from him, his hand to his head.

* * *

"I'm not a vampire."  
**"No."**  
"Wh-what am I?" He bemoaned.  
**"You're a _revenant_."** Darkwing summoned the vespers from the air, capturing heartless against the wall. From the derelict room, he reshaped metal into chains and a clasp. He fashioned a matching key and raised it for the other's eyes. Then he placed it on the floor within arms reach.

Darkwing shifted to bat and flew out through the balcony door. He was still hungry and that meant there had to be more criminals out there waiting for him.


	6. Reverie

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**42**

**Reverie**

* * *

_**I am the terror that flaps in the night.**_

_An alleyway.  
__A thief looking through a wallet.  
__The coins jumped out, spinning in the air.  
They formed a word._

**No**

_He let out a scream, dropped the wallet and ran.  
__He was suddenly faced with a crowd of angry people.  
__"That's him!" The woman cried, "Get him!"  
__"Argh!"_

_The thief ran, the sound of the lynch mob constantly behind him.  
They were going to chase him forever.  
He saw a police car and raced up to the side. _

_"Please, they're trying to kill me!"  
__"Who?" The police officer said in concern.  
__"The..." He broke down into tears. _

_"I stole a wallet. I don't care, just lock me up, get me away from those people!"_

* * *

_In the warehouse, the robbers tossed their stolen wares on the table.  
Phones, ipads, a jewelry box, a wallet._

_Bells jingled in the air.  
__"Woo-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"  
_

_A hula hoop, came circling towards them.  
They stepped out of its way.  
The hula hoop sprang up from the ground and caught them between it._

_"Pla-ay-ti-me!"_

_A clown, dressed in purple and orange bounded into sight.  
"Hello, little Bill. And you must be George." He smiled gaily at them.  
__"Oh my god no!"  
__"No, please!"_

_"How about we play a game?"  
__"No, no please!  
__"I hate clowns!"_

_"Oh, I'm sure you'll get over it."  
The clown smiled contentedly.  
"Now that you're my captive audience for the rest of eternity."_

_They struggled unco-ordinated to get out of the hula hoop.  
__"Oh, you can't escape us, can they, Mr Banana Brain?"  
__He produced a banana clown doll.  
__"That's right, Ben!" The doll squeaked, "Unless they went to the pen!"_

_"Hey!" The clown turned away from Bill and George to face the doll.  
_

_"Mr Banana Brain, how many times do I have to tell you: don't tell them the loophole in the game! We can't keep having our audience running off to jail, every time it's your turn to speak!"_

_The clown looked around at the empty spot and to his audience reaching the door.  
_

_"Oh, you can't escape me!" He let out a peal of laughter. "We're going to have so much fu-un!"_

* * *

_In the park, two people, noisy, eating Hungry Hippo burgers, leaving the trash strewn about._

_"Aw, cute dog." One of them laughed, looking at the phone.  
__"Lemme look. All this one's got are some funeral pictures."  
__"Oh, morbid." The first one scoffed.  
__"What's that?" The second one jumped, "Snake!"_

_A moment and tree roots had caught their feet. Vines wound around their arms, raising them upside down into the air._

_"What're these?" A green figure with purple hair appeared from the darkness,_ "Weeds..._ in_ 'my'_ pristine park? The figure regarded the mess on the ground in contempt, "Pickpockets_ 'and'_ litterbugs?"_

_"Who are you?"  
__"What are you going to do with us?"_

_The figure smiled, "What else?" The greenery tossed them to the ground. "Spi-ike? He called. A giant duck sized venus fly-trap raced to his side._

_He pointed severely at them. __"Mulch these weeds!" _

_The fly trap snapped its jaws. The pair ran as it made off after them._

* * *

_Heartless._

Sensing himself watched, Drake opened his eyes and looked up to the vampire watching him.

_"Why?"_ He asked hoarsely, "What have I done that's so much worse than them?"  
"You know, you have a really funny way of looking at things."  
Drake swallowed, realising what he was sensing, "You're full."  
"Yeah, it's not the fastest way to eat." the vampire chuckled, "But it's the funniest."

Drake looked away from him. "I don't... know."  
"What?" The vampire shrugged.  
"It isn't just fear. I mean; how can that feed you?"  
"Oh." The vampire uttered, "Because I rolled a low score on the sanity check when I became a vampire. And since I'm always low on that, I just focus my empty stomach feeling on that instead of blood."

Drake flinched, feeling the bite mark on his neck. "Do you even think of blood as food?"  
"Uh, well..." The vampire shrugged, "If it's a demon it's all you can eat central. But I've learned to focus my mind past that." He knelt down in front of Drake, "This world, beneath the surface. Within your blood. We're connected."  
_"No."_ Drake flinched and shut his eyes, looking away. "You're using me."  
The vampire stood up.

For a long moment there was silence.

* * *

Drake swallowed, "You know, it'd really help if you just admit it."

The vampire sighed. "Then yes. I am everything you think I am." He stated weakly, "I am the thing that you fear most. I am Darkwing Duck."  
_"You are not Darkwing Duck!"_ Drake returned heatedly. _"I would never do this!"  
_"Do what?"  
"Bite someone!"  
"Darkwing vampire, then." The other threw out in a cursory tone, "Is that better suited for your sensitive stomach?"

Drake snorted in distaste. "You can't use people."

"Like S.H.U.S.H. used you? I get why you're ticked. They only treat you nicely to get something out of you. That's the way, isn't it? The minute you give them that big shiny bauble they hate you again."  
"No." Drake returned, "it's not even that good."  
**"Ooo."** The vampire knelt down to him. **"Tell me the tale of these despicably dirty dishes."  
**Drake swallowed, "They take advantage of the curse. Again, again, and again." He shook his head slowly, "I can't get free of them." He sank his head back into his arms. "You're no different than they are."

The vampire watched him in quiet silence.

Drake sighed, looking up wearily, "You couldn't have just asked me?"

The vampire stood up. "Excuse me, Darkwing Duck. Vampire, here. I seem to have misplaced one of my intended victims. You happen to have seen a guy; average height, in his seventies, wearing a classic detective outfit? Because, man, I get hungry just thinking about this case."

Drake swallowed, "You monster."  
"Yeah; that's why I sent Hooter to ask." The vampire smiled halfly.  
Drake shuddered. "You bit him."  
"How else does it make sense?"

"Why bite him? Why bite me?"  
"Because... you let me do it." He sighed.  
Drake looked away.  
"You know..." The vampire was reticent, "I'm waiting for you to ask me."  
Drake swallowed, "Ask you what? You want Larkis Dovesworth. You want the thing that got him."

The vampire frowned, "Yeah, that's the trouble with being a vampire; at the heart of every grand plan lies the same old broken record. Let's talk about you. What do you want?"

"Now you're trying to get me on your side."  
"No I'm _not."_ The vampire scrunched his face up in disapproval, "that was a lousy block. Tell me what you want."  
Panic jolted through Drake. He emptied his mind, focusing on the room around them, the window, the grey and black of the other's clothes.  
The vampire chuckled, "while you're at it could you look into mine? It's a bit of a junkyard in here."

Drake gulped, "How-how long have you been in my head?"  
"Let's just say, **I got what I needed when I bit you**."  
Drake contorted his face in pain, _"then why are you bothering with me now?"  
_"Why _'am'_ I bothering you now?" The vampire rephrased, kneeling down to him again. "What do you want from me, heartless?"  
"You keep calling me that," Drake swallowed. "What have I done to get such a horrible title?"  
"Enough." The vampire answered, shaking his head. "You've done enough."

Drake shook his head, looking away. "What do you want from me?"

The vampire stood up and paced for a moment.

"Tell me about you and Agent Hooter. Why do you resent him?"  
Drake shrugged, "I mean, what can I say? He's tried to kill me four times."  
"Really?"  
"Oh, he has valid reasons." Drake discounted. "Of course."  
"The ends don't justify the means."  
"I thought I had him." Drake frowned, "Called him out and everything. But Doctor Vykes had tampered with the evidence and I based my whole scene around that so I got it slammed back in my face. Now he knows I don't trust him, he's holding his cards very close to his chest."

"There's that name again. Doctor Vykes invented those special autopsy procedures."  
Drake shut his eyes. "Hooter gave Bellum the authority to perform them on me. I've already had the first stage done." He breathed, "All he needs to do is orchestrate a way to knock me out so he can take me back to Doctor Bellum for the second stage. The tri-section will end my ability for higher reasoning and after the quad-section I won't be getting up."

"No amount of broccoli is going to help you fix that."  
"No." Drake agreed plainly, "no it won't."  
"And that's why you let me bite you."

Drake looked at the vampire. "I honestly don't know what happened. Didn't you use your allure?"  
The vampire shrugged, "Not unless you count 'I'm not going to kill you' as attractive."  
Drake gazed back at him. "Yeah, that's pretty attractive."  
"You need help." The vampire snorted.  
"What, and you don't?" Drake raised an eyebrow.

The vampire laughed. "If there's ten points on an average person's sanity meter, mine's capped at five."

* * *

He sat down beside Drake.

"So, you're blocking me on this like you blocked Hooter on Larkis Dovesworth."  
"I wasn't blocking."  
_"You're still blocking!"_ The vampire glared at him. "And I'm trying to help you, so you want to hear me out?"  
"Help me?"

The vampire's beak twitched. "What do you know about the family curse?"

_"Quite a lot, actually!"_ Drake retorted. "It's passed father to son, there can only be one son, it doesn't activate unless you take on the mantle... What do _'you'_ know?"

A note appeared floating in the air between them, the red markings were strange and indecipherable to Drake.

"According to Dovesworth's alchemical report on _'your'_ blood, it was some kind of christening gift on a baby vampire. Since Sir Quackmire Mallard made the biggest impression on the book of our ancestors, one can only assume it must've been him." He smiled, licked his beak, "There's a vampire in your blood, five hundred years buried. You and me dig it up and your Hooter can knock you out all he likes. Doctor Bellum's autopsies won't put a scratch on you."

Drake chuckled wearily, "Me, a vampire?"  
"You want to bite me?"  
"No..." Drake frowned, disbelieving. "I don't."  
"So you want to bite Hooter?"  
"I don't want to bite anyone!"

"Okay, so let's fix that first."

"Ah, what-!" There was a closing in feeling, an invisible vortex. Drake tried to shift out but suddenly the manacles were a thing working against him. "What are you doing!" He breathed raggedly.  
"Sucking the life out of you." The vampire answered, his teeth half lowered. "Being part duck and part vampire, you have twice as much as everyone else."

Drake slumped, weak, dizzy, struggling to focus. "Ow." He breathed sharply.  
"That's hunger, you're feeling." The vampire cooed. "Your body's reacting to the low metre gauge."  
Drake couldn't focus, could barely see. "I can't... I can't, blur..."  
"Are you sure that's a blur? Are you sure it's not energy you're seeing?"  
Drake blinked through the blur. "Energy?"

"Stolen it. Like the antijack did."

Drake felt a flare of temper. "Used me like I'm nothing!"  
"Good, focus that temper. Use it; get your energy back."  
**"Give it back!"** He said severely to the great field of energy before him.

The sound of the vampire's smile broadened, "Take it." He whispered, "before something else happens."

A sense of urgency rushed through him.

Drake seized him closely, "Bite..." Amidst the energy field was a circulatory pattern. He leaned closer, pressed by the feeling of weakness, dizzy against the sight of energy.

The taste of blood poured down his throat. Strength flooded back into him.

* * *

_A fire raged, a volcano, smoke, rain poured, thunder cracked. From the ramparts of Mallard Manor, Drake looked out over a dry moat. Drake felt a hand on his shoulder, a distant voice growing stronger from somewhere across the raging fire._

* * *

Blearily, Drake blinked back the scene. In the darkness, he turned his head to see Steelbeak kneeling, watching him.

Drake caught his gaze.  
"Aw man." Steelbeak said regarding him with a frown. He pulled his hand away, "he's done a real number on you."  
Wearily, Drake got on his hands and knees, the manacles and chains clinking together. He sat up. "He got you too?"  
"I'm the one he cut his teeth on."

"From the other universe." Drake sat back, rubbing his head. "...What was that?"  
"He's asleep." Steelbeak shrugged, "That's what _'that'_ was."

"But I was... he made me..." Drake put his hand to his beak. "It was _vivid."  
_Steelbeak raised an eyebrow. "Made you what?"  
"Bite him back."

Steelbeak regarded him for a moment. "That explains why your eyes were black."  
Drake grabbed Steelbeak's arm, "Did I actually bite him?!"  
"No." Steelbeak answered immediately. "You've been tranced out since he bit you; then you fell asleep."

"A dream turned my eyes black?"  
Steelbeak frowned. "Yeah. Packs a real punch, don't it?"

"I'm going for lunch. Anything you think won't turn your stomach right now?"  
"That's not like you to help so much."  
Steelbeak stood up, "Take it or leave it. So long as you're not throwing up over the place."  
Drake smiled at that, "Salad sandwich, thanks."  
"Right." Steelbeak left through the door.

Drake sank back to a seat against the wall, regarding the manacles around himself. They felt very real now. During that whole conversation, they'd barely been there. A dream.

Was any of it possible?


	7. Not Getting Up

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**43**

**Not Getting Up**

* * *

_Cafeteria location: Ground level.  
_

_Security office location: Ground level.  
__Camera __status: Hooter: Disabled, offline.  
__Camera footage notes: Darkwing:  
_

_Central testing chamber location: Basement level 1.  
Purpose of testing chamber: Building security droids.  
__Purpose of F.O.W.L. security droids: Deter S.H.U.S.H. agents.  
_

_F.O.W.L. plot objectives: Hooter: Unassessed. Darkwing:_

_Assessed number of basement levels: Hooter: 3+, incomplete coverage. Darkwing:  
__Purpose of remaining basement levels: Hooter: Unassessed. Darkwing: _

* * *

Agent Hooter looked up from his notebook, noticing the empty team meeting room. He felt he'd been pouring over this for ages. How late was Darkwing?

Hooter checked his coffee. The dregs were stone cold. He looked at his phone again. 11 am? Three hours and no response to his text message. He tried calling.

"This phone is currently switched off." The operator voice intoned.

He got up and went down the lift to the car park. Time for a drive to Mallard Manor.

* * *

Morgana answered the door. Tall, dark haired wearing a stylish red coloured dress with maroon pattern. She was looking drawn in the face. Tired.

"He's not here." She stated and left the door open for him.  
Hooter followed her to the lounge room.

Morgana sat down on the settee next to Toby. The tiger was curled up with his tail hanging over the edge. Toby put his head on her lap. She petted him. Opposite them, the TV set was switched off.

Hooter was quiet for a moment, "Do you know anything about where he is?"  
"It's a dark, empty place." Morgana answered in a slightly less than even tone. "He's not getting up."

How she was petting Toby was a worried kind of motion displaying frittered emotions. Hooter thought better than to ask another question at the moment.

"Shall I make you a cup of tea?"  
"No, thank you." Morgana answered with a bit more force in her tone. "Please. Hooter. Find him. He's not getting up." She repeated.

He nodded and left.

* * *

Back to the office.

It was midday now. Agent Hooter pressed through the doors and into the cafeteria. He found his duplicate staring out the window over his half-eaten sandwich.

"What have you released on St Canard?" He demanded of the other.  
"Not I, but," J Gander glanced at him and to his sandwich he sighed, "A vampire."  
"Oh, no," Agent Hooter countered severely, "Darkwing knows how to deal with vampires."

"Not this one." J Gander replied, wrapping up the second half of his meal. "This is the most terrible vampire living in our St Canard. He has a set of skills and methods he likes to use, but there's no point approaching him from that angle, as he's just as want to pull out a stop and do something else_ entirely_!" He finished, gritting his teeth.

_"Why didn't you say this before?!" _Agent Hooter exclaimed.

"Because I couldn't!" J Gander returned firmly, "Though his arrogance has freed up the topic now. They're in an empty place with a lot of odd noise and a view over Innsworth Fine Jewelry. I'd like to give more details, but frankly I've been so preoccupied with S.H.U.S.H. matters that I haven't even slept."

_They were linked?_ Agent Hooter gazed back at him. "Preoccupied or not, you have to know what this vampire's up to on some level."  
"Yes; Larkis Dovesworth." J Gander replied, "Really, it is a very bland motive; I'm sorry."  
"What did _'he'_ do to get so famous?"  
"Dovesworth disappeared in the blink of an eye. Off the face of St Canard, and in the middle of a devilish recount that he was doing poorly at. Possibly the worst three things to combine; _'He'_ is well antagonized."  
"If it's just Dovesworth, why go after my partner?" Agent Hooter gritted.  
"Because his game is chess," J Gander turned away, "and your partner was blocking his path."

_"Chess! What on earth is that supposed to mean?"_ Agent Hooter exclaimed.

"We're pieces; we move on our own and in our certain patterns." J Gander gestured widely to incorporate a grand size in his statement. "It's a simple matter to rearrange us."  
"But not my partner. He couldn't be _'rearranged'?"_  
"It was my objective to move him," J Gander said apologetically, "I failed."  
Hooter stared at him. "You...?"  
"I _'am'_ sorry. But that is how the situation played out."  
_"You're actively aiding this vampire!"  
_"I am a piece on a chessboard. I'm simply more aware of the fact than you are."

Agent Hooter swallowed. "Is there anything else you can say to me about this that can help?"  
J Gander shook his head. "Console you, perhaps?"  
Hooter grunted. "No, thank you." He turned away.  
"Coffee, without milk, no sugar." His duplicate said behind.  
"Always." Hooter agreed and headed out.

* * *

_"Even when it's not my fault: it's my fault."_

Agent Hooter got to Innsworth Fine Jewelry and its police taped front. He turned, looking at the tall buildings in his view. It was very clear which building he needed to go to. The abandoned complex of Bird Cage Apartments certainly qualified as a home of '_odd noises_'. It stood visible behind the occupied block opposite.

He made his way through the busy lunch time street toward the building.

_Chess._

His duplicate had failed to _'move'_ Darkwing, causing him to come under attack from this vampire. The control the vampire was exercising over his other self was unnerving him.

Chess with people? It sounded quite terrible. But then he'd never been good at sending agents into dangerous situations. There was a level of guilt he couldn't shed from his being. SplasherQuack's case had taken the cake in the matter. He knew he had pitched out his job when he first wrote on the cover of the reopened case file.

Hooter took the lift up to level five. This was the start of his search; he'd work his way up from here.

* * *

He stopped, hearing a sound in the stairwell. Someone. Going up or down?

Going up.

Hooter gently slighted the door open and attended to a quiet follow.

It wasn't difficult to keep up, as Hooter had only begun the climb and the other had the gradual taking of someone who'd treaded several flights already.

* * *

It was a frozen moment when Hooter realised his mistake.

The sound of the bag as it dropped against the door. The vision of Steelbeak came into line of sight, dressed in a white suit jacket. The rooster glared at him for a moment and without a word, charged.

Hooter swerved, jumped to the banister. Steelbeak lunged at him and Hooter jumped on his shoulders and pushed off.  
"Argh!" Steelbeak exclaimed behind him.

Hooter landed on the stairs and caught his footing, flinching at the sound of the heavy landing down below. He sighed and headed up the last flight of stairs.

* * *

Stepping over the benign bag of wrapped sandwiches and bottled juice, Hooter went in through the door.

The air felt disturbed in here.

_Which direction?_

The trepidatious feeling sent him left. Hooter went to the door, gently opened it.

* * *

The room was empty, but for Drake sitting, chained to the wall.

_But of course it would be empty._

Hooter knelt down by his partner's side, considering the medieval manacles. "Darkwing." He stirred him, "Where's the key?"  
Wordless, Drake looked at him, then his gaze drifted to the floor in front of him.

Hooter turned to look. He grabbed up the key and unlocked the manacles.  
"No!" Drake uttered hoarsely, grabbing his arm, "Don't you understand? He sees through me!"  
Hooter grabbed him back with calm firmness. "You're coming home with me."

To that, Drake said nothing and let Hooter help him up.

* * *

Hooter led him to the lift, back to S.H.U.S.H. and straight to his car.

_"I can't hear him, I can and I can't hear him..."_ Drake uttered in soft mumbling.

Drake didn't change state on the way back. Hooter wondered, a kind of languor, or a stupor. A daze.

_"Home. He wants his home... he's missing... St Canard. That's why the water's gone."_

Instead of parking at the gate, Hooter took his car up the drive. It wasn't like he couldn't park right in front of the door.

He got out and had to come about to get Drake to move from the car.  
"Come on." He said quietly.

The front door opened and Morgana rushed forwards, enveloping Drake in a hug.  
"M-Morgana." Drake's voice picked up slightly.  
Morgana drew him up the steps.

Hooter shut the front door and followed them into the kitchen.

* * *

The kitchen of Mallard Manor had an old world rustic vibe. Large, well kept. The dining table was the heaviest of oak and the surface was uneven. Pitted, dented, scorched, marked, yet varnished and polished to a dull gleam. It looked as though it had once had sharply defined edges, the same as the chairs. The wood was smoothed by the wear of life times.

Morgana was busying about, making up tea and small open sandwich bites.

Hooter sat down opposite Drake, by Morgana's side. He looked down at his teacup, regretting the fact it didn't taste like coffee.

Even as he ate, there was a dullness in Drake's face; a reservation Hooter had never seen in his features.

He watched Drake, unsure if the food would help, if any signs of improvement would show.

* * *

Morgana leaned over to Drake, lifting her fingers to examine his neck.

Drake flinched slightly.  
"He didn't take much?" Morgana asked, quietly serious.  
Drake shook his head. "Although he obviously liked the way I tasted... there was nothing in him that was coming back for more."

Hooter swallowed, "Is there anything you can describe of him?"  
"Yeah..." Drake's eyes darkened and he looked away. "He's me."  
Morgana leaned back with a sharp breath.  
"He's from an alternate universe." Hooter reminded dryly.  
"His thoughts would slip through the cracks between yours." Morgana uttered, "You don't know whose decisions you're acting on."

Drake shook his head. "No I don't. I'm completely corrupted. I'm no more a S.H.U.S.H. agent than J Gander is."

Agent Hooter sat back, a feeling of grave unease. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

Drake sighed. "Because St Canard is bigger than S.H.U.S.H..." His tone lowered, "Something got someone; whatever it was it was genuinely terrible, and given the lack of resolution by S.H.U.S.H.; it's lying in a dormant state waiting for its next victim. If it was a demon, forty years can mean nothing but a stomach getting hungry again. It's conceivable we could find the creature with our current level of knowledge; scour the carnival, simple enough. But what exactly _'are'_ we facing? The merest touch sent Dovesworth swapping between two universes. No, at the depths of Dovesworth's day-mares dwells not a destructo-demon. The carnival is still in use. Citizens are still at risk. We need the full recount before we can say we've got the best available plan to deal with it."

Hooter stared at Drake. Morgana was also motionless, watching Drake.

"He's ripped him open and poured himself inside..." Hooter swallowed.  
Drake slumped back in the chair. "I'm a revenant."  
"You're a Mallard!" Morgana responded firmly. "Beyond that, nothing matters. All this is is a... _minor setback_."  
Drake gazed back at Morgana with heat rising in his face.

Hooter stood up. "So long as you're stable. We'll pick this up again tomorrow. After forty years, twenty four hours won't make much difference."

* * *

Hooter left the house and stepped down onto the gravel to the driver side of his black 1987 Viper Quack and unlocked the door.

A lasso caught him, making him drop his keys. The rope drew tight around him, loops and a double knot. A white jacketed arm opened the door and thrust him roughly across into the passenger seat.

Steelbeak picked up the keys from the gravel and sat down in the driver's seat. He started Hooter's car with a roar, swung it round and out of the drive.


	8. Revenant

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**44**

**Revenant**

* * *

"What is it with everyone lassoing me?" Hooter said in some distress, sitting on the passenger seat as Steelbeak drove his Viper Quack.  
"Eh, you like westerns, don't ya? Come on." Steelbeak replied watching the road.  
"Rather than me being presumptuous, may I ask _'why'_ you're bothering with me?"  
"What? I owe you a favour."

Hooter looked at Steelbeak again; his white jacket was dirty and slightly tattered.

"My goodness, nobody can survive that fall!"  
"You don't say?" Steelbeak careened around a corner, righted the wheels and continued along.  
Hooter struggled to sit back in his seat. "If you're going to do that a seat belt would be nice."  
"Nah." Steelbeak disagreed, "Seat belts are for the living."

Hooter swallowed, noticing Steelbeak wasn't wearing a seat belt either.

* * *

"Nice car. All that's missing is the Shangri-Las in the back. They had other plans, huh?" Steelbeak laughed at his own joke.  
Hooter looked away from Steelbeak. "For what it's worth, I'd just like to mention it was you who began that fight with someone less than half your size."

Steelbeak drove normally and didn't answer.

* * *

"So what did you really get demoted for, anyway?"  
"I suppose what it really came down to was my taking matters into my own hands."  
"Shoowee!" Steelbeak whistled. "Dirty."  
"It was, to say, the thing I couldn't refute."

Steelbeak chuckled, "And to think him busting in and taking over as 'Acting Assistant Director'. Almost like he's the one '_taking matters in his own hands_'."  
"Fair point." Hooter considered. "Do you know what my duplicate's up to?"  
"The plan didn't go off right," Steelbeak said in a slightly miffed tone. "So what do _'you'_ reckon he's doing?"

Hooter looked away from him. "I can't possibly imagine how his interference with the S.H.U.S.H. in this universe will help your vampire with the demons at the carnival in yours."  
Steelbeak started laughing.  
"It's extremely convoluted."  
Steelbeak kept laughing.  
"Unless your vampire is after more than Larkis Dovesworth and carnival demons combined."

Steelbeak quietened.

"I have seen what a small amount of power does to my partner. It's doubtful a vampire version of himself would stop at demons."

* * *

Hooter braced himself again as Steelbeak aggressively parked the car in a quiet back street.

Steelbeak pulled Hooter out from the passenger seat. "Let's take a walk."  
Hooter's feet landing on the cement. "How long have you been a revenant?"  
"Long enough to have learnt how to like it." Steelbeak tugged the rope and they started walking. "That's what you wanna know, right? That I've sold out for the feeling of real power running through my veins."

They headed around to the next street.  
"The F.O.W.L. installation." Hooter eyed the construction site up ahead.  
"Hey!" Steelbeak chuckled, strolling forwards. "So you been here before. Let's go play with their stuff."  
Hooter quietly followed. It sounded as much of a helter-skelter ride as the previous half hour had been.

"Any idea what they're up to these days?" Steelbeak asked in a cheery tone.  
"Erm, smart artillery machines. AI tanks and robots," Hooter obliged.  
"Sounds like a bunch of toys to me."  
"Indeed; that is what you called them."

* * *

Hooter frowned at being pulled into scope of the overhead snipers. "I see you're able to 'simply stroll' in here."

Steelbeak chuckled, "Heh, yeah, that's me alright. Stroll right into any joint this side of the law and instantly own the place."

* * *

Hooter marvelled at the smooth slight Steelbeak eased through the complex.

Once they arrived at the central test chamber, Steelbeak took a right down a narrow corridor. They stepped past a push-bucket and a mop standing by a yellow wet and slippery warning sandwich board. The cleaning items were particularly crowding up the narrow passage.

Hooter's curiosity silenced him for a good long while. This was exciting. His run with Drake the other night had taken them in the opposite direction.  
"Do you know what we're heading towards?"

Steelbeak shrugged. "F.O.W.L.'s F.O.W.L.." He responded in non-answer.

* * *

It was a while and a couple more levels before the machinery and deep underground ambiance began taking a meaningful shape in his mind.

"They're excavating." Hooter remarked.  
"So they've stuck themselves down, so they need toys to protect themselves. S'a real page turner." Steelbeak didn't sound surprised.  
"Have they done this in your universe?"

Steelbeak shook his head, _"Not on my watch." _He said in an oddly dark tone.

* * *

They came on a conspicuous looking double door. "Eh, looks like the end of the line."

They went through and were on a metal ledge leading out to a large miner's platform. Four industrial sized chains attached to the cemented walls above were pinched together over the top of the automated control mechanism in the middle before being fed back out to the corners of the platform in an hourglass fashion. In comical notation, the floor was painted in helpful red diagonal strips for where to stand which was essentially _'not_ _anywhere'_ on this platform.

Steelbeak pulled Hooter out onto it. The solid metal railing went up to just under Hooter's beak. Hooter looked over to the black chasm beneath them.

"I see what you're doing here." He swallowed, looking back at Steelbeak.  
Steelbeak smiled at him, "I ain't big on keeping debts too long."

"Maybe you wanna think on liquidating your assets then." Steelbeak's voice came from the entrance. Local Steelbeak leveled a gun at the roughed up one, stepping out onto the platform with them.

"Oh, dear is me." Roughed up Steelbeak mocked in fake tone, backing up to the corner. "I am unarmed, what will I do? Oh, I know, how about a _'chain'?!"_ He suddenly grabbed the chain support on the corner beside him and pulled. The entire thing ripped from the wall and the platform jerked in an unsteady squeal of metal. He jumped the jerking of the platform beneath their feet and hit the other over the hand, knocking the gun out of his grip and sending it over the edge.

Roughed up Steelbeak grabbed his duplicate's arm, pulling him backwards towards Hooter.

"Argh!" There was a nasty crack of bone and local Steelbeak crumpled to the floor. He clutched his arm.  
Hooter breathed, watching the strain on the other three chains ease.

"Let's go for a ride." Roughed up Steelbeak moved for the controls.  
"What, are you crazy?" Local Steelbeak countered from his kneeling position, a trace of pain in his voice, "The support's compromised. The thing can go any minute."  
"Yeah, think how funny it'll be when the archaeologists in thirty thousand years find our bones mixed up in the Jurassic period." He chuckled heartily. "Well, yours, at any rate. Right, Hooter?"

**"I am the terror that flaps in the night."**

"Right on cue." Roughed up Steelbeak stated soberly and reached for the controls again. From above, Drake landed on him, knocking him to the floor. The platform shook.  
In terror of the fight that was starting, Hooter knelt down, looking to the bolts above, the cement already showing stress cracks. He looked at the other Steelbeak near his position. "Those last three chains aren't-."

"Eh, you serious?" Roughed up Steelbeak stepped back from the centre, "Where're the rest of your lines?"

**"Only if I can get them in."**

Punch, kick, dodge, block.

Roughed up Steelbeak stepped back, "Didn't I leave you cozying up to your _splendida signora_?"  
"Yeah, very inconsiderate." Drake responded lightly.  
Roughed up Steelbeak laughed.

Dodge, punch, block.

"I get you guys wanna fight," Local Steelbeak interrupted from the floor near Hooter, "But you mind if we leave?"

Block, jump back.

The platform rocked wildly.

"Yow; there's a nasty move." Steelbeak commended, "Is that Shinqua?"  
"You sound surprised?" Drake replied.  
"Yeah."

Punch, block.

"You don't really need _'us'_ here, do ya?" Local Steelbeak tried again.

Dodge, dive, jump aside.

"You need a real level head for Shinqua." As roughed up Steelbeak spoke, there was a sound of rock crumbling. He grabbed the rope and pulled Hooter back safely onto the docked platform.

Drake pulled local Steelbeak back using his grapple for extra security just as the thing tipped sideways with the heavy rattle of giant chains falling. The last chain's support ripped from the wall as they turned.

They watched the miner's platform and the giant chains fall into the terrible black depths below.

The distant crash echoed up to them.

It was a very. Deep hole.

* * *

"Always count on F.O.W.L. for the latest in idiotically dumb ideas." Roughed up Steelbeak chortled, interrupting the heart pounding moment.

He turned to look at Drake. "I been there," Steelbeak stated, "you feel so hopeless it makes you wanna gag. We didn't spend our whole lives building ourselves up just to be smacked flat down again," he gestured to the empty space before them. "So do what you gotta do. Get mad, get up and get going again. Same as you been doing the rest your life." He headed out through the door.

* * *

Drake untied Hooter.

Agent Hooter looked at local Steelbeak, still clutching his arm. "It is a trifle stupid." He agreed, addressing Steelbeak, "What can you possibly be thinking?"  
Steelbeak half smiled, "That I'm doing my job, and it'd be heck funny if it worked." He considered his arm, "Man, he just grabbed me and clean broke my arm. Nobody mess with him; How'd he get so strong?"  
"He's a revenant." Drake answered, "He's strongest when he's.." Drake flinched, "when he's..." He stopped again. "When they agree."

Steelbeak eyed him, "I know you, you're the guy who nicked those circuit boards. What you gonna do with a few bits of electronics?"  
Drake shrugged, "Same thing as you. Try to take over the world; just from a different angle."

"We need to leave." Hooter mentioned.  
"Do we need to knock you out?" Drake asked Steelbeak. "Or will tying you up do?"  
"Nah, think the broken arm's enough, thanks." Steelbeak chuckled, turning to look back up at the walls of the shaft, "Who does a revenant have to '_agree with_' to get strong enough he can rip foot long bolts clear outta cement?"  
"The vampire that bit him." Drake answered soberly.  
"You not so keen on being bit?"  
Drake stiffened. _"There's a question and a half."_  
"Someone as smart as _'you'_ lets yourself get bit?"

Drake sighed, "Blood is blood, Steelbeak. I'm no different than the people who were robbing that store and he wasn't interested in biting _'them'._ But by the time I went to talk to him he was a completely different vampire."  
Steelbeak raised an amused eyebrow, "What I'm hearing is: 'he seduced you'."  
"I guess..." Drake sounded uncertain.

"I don't know. It just... happened. Something... _'normal'._ Till after it happened... and he had... '_Done... something... to me_'." He put his hand to his chest, "A revenant is essentially one down from a vampire but they could really be anything: a ghoul, sleeper, pet zombie. It's all in the bite."  
"And that's controlled by the vampire along with the bone-breaking strength."

Drake nodded.

"So you're one of the ones that if you stake him, you'd go back to normal?"  
Drake hesitated, "For a given value of normal."  
Steelbeak chuckled, "You geek."

"Let's go." Hooter interrupted before Drake could answer and moved to the door.

* * *

At Drake's side, F.O.W.L. security was a routine game of dodge.

They managed their way back to Hooter's car without much difficulty.

Hooter turned on the ignition, suddenly noticing the blue car opposite them. "Whose car is that?"  
"That's the one Steelbeak used to get to my place. Unfortunately my phone isn't big enough to fit a police scanner."  
"I can't imagine it is with that hacking program." Hooter checked their seat belts. "I'll let them know where to find it. Are you up for a trip to the office?" He started driving.

Drake sighed lightly, "Sure, but so you know, I'm completely back seat right now."

* * *

Agent Hooter led Drake back to the cafeteria. His duplicate wasn't there. They went up into the agency area. J Gander sat, staring fixedly at the screen.

"Those are S.H.U.S.H. files." Drake stated, looking at J Gander's screen.  
"Yes; I'm helping your director with a problem." J Gander slowly looked up at him.  
"That's how it looks." Agent Hooter corrected bitterly. "Really he's just fixing up the chess pieces so they don't block the vampire's path again."  
"Explain to me why that isn't a laudable goal." J Gander countered, gesturing to Drake.

"J Gander." Drake pulled across a chair and sat down. "Why did he sell Mallard Manor?"  
"He'd finished school and he had other places to be."  
"What about his parents?"  
"His mother had already been gone a year by then."  
Drake straightened. "What about his father?"  
J Gander shook his head, "He had a traumatic childhood. It's ill-advised to dig it up."

"How about you? What did you do to get bitten?"  
"He was the first vampire that I and S.H.U.S.H. met in our universe. It was only when I met my second vampire that I realised how easy _'he'_ was to talk to." He shrugged uncomfortably, "My second vampire was a positive blood drinker. I did not handle the situation well, and I woke up the next day feeling rather pale and with a voice in my head urging me to sign death warrants instead of arrest forms."

Agent Hooter shuddered.  
"But that wasn't this vampire." Drake checked. "He's into scaring things into jail."  
"Typically." J Gander shook his head. "Failing that, the asylum." He turned away. " I really must continue working; I've only got to the end of today."

Drake stood and walked away. Agent Hooter followed.

* * *

"What?" He asked in trepidation, getting back into the car.

They were well away from S.H.U.S.H. before Drake finally answered.

**"This vampire has a weakness."** Drake answered in a dark tone, **"When I find it, I'm gonna nail him straight into the coffin he belongs in."** Drake added grimly, "Before he gets to Larkis Dovesworth or so help me I am going to be _'very'_ upset."

"You think he'd hurt him." Hooter stated, more than questioned.  
"You've seen what he's done to me; it was the same thing with Steelbeak or there's no way he would've gone to all that trouble to help me. If that monster sinks his teeth into Dovesworth he'll rip through him like tissue paper," Drake answered. "Hopefully Morgana's got that portal working. She should be able to calibrate based on the venom in my blood."

"Yes..." Hooter frowned stiffly. "Unfortunately I must point out that the minute he discovers what you're up to, your ability to continue may well give out entirely. He's turned a top agent for F.O.W.L. and a S.H.U.S.H. Director into his..." He hesitated, "to his will. They both work for him; It's only a matter of time before he turns you too."

"I need you to come with me to the other universe."  
"Of course."


	9. Like a Hangover

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**45**

**Like a Hangover**

* * *

Morgana insisted they eat, then loaded them up with rations.

Then they went out onto the sidewalk. For, Morgana stated, they didn't want to boldly step through inside someone else's rightful property. Doubling to that she insisted she also come, on the basis that she was the one with the power to return them.

They stepped through.

As the portal faded behind him, Drake gave a shocked gasp. _"My head!"_ He looked back at the empty air behind him, _"h-he's gone!"_  
"Gone?" Hooter looked back as well, "the vampire can't reach you between universes?"  
"Y-yes..." Drake considered, "I still feel... but he's gone."  
"But if he isn't with you-."  
"We can do the investigation in peace!" Drake finished.

"Excellent!" Morgana smiled. "Then you can stop looking at me like I'm locked in a gilded cage. So how do we start?"  
Drake shook his head, trying to clear his distractions, "Uh, we do what Mr Dovesworth did. Start with the phone directory."  
"The corner store should have one." Hooter advised.

* * *

Outside the store at one of the benches, three redheads, two boys and a girl all the same age were playing flip the juice cap. They were geared up with roller-blades, a skateboard and a little bike, helmets and a barrel full of energy. They laughed and were generally noisy.

Drake led the others into the store. It was quiet, slightly stifling. Drake asked to borrow the phone directory and wrote the results down.

D&M Mallard, 34 Avian Way, Mireham  
H&G Mallard, 7 Feather Crescent, Mireham  
S&R Mallard, 24 Lotus Lane, North Park

He stepped outside without looking at the others.

"Well, you found something." Hooter pressed him.

"Three addresses." Drake answered. "Two in this suburb, and one on the old side town."  
"It isn't a common name?" Hooter asked.  
"Not in our universe." Drake answered, "And it's to do with that curse." Drake headed off across the road. "He sold the house. He studied abroad and came back, moved up the road into something smaller. Way smaller. But how can there be three Mallards in the phone book? So far everything else has barely been any different."

"Feather Crescent first." Drake decided. "Need to understand why there are three."

* * *

They discovered the first address. A four bedroom attic basement and closed double garage.

It was a redhead that opened the door, a teenager. She was wearing a sloppy checkered over-shirt over last night's rave party clothes, a tartan miniskirt and a silver skull on her skimpy black T-Shirt. Her red hair was up in a pony tail and her eyeliner had run a bit making her eyes dark and moody.

"Hello. We're investigators." Drake smiled up at her, she was lean and tall, "Is this the Mallard residence?"

She brushed her fringe from her eyebrows, looking them over. "Whoa, you guys look like a hangover." She opened the door wider and let them inside.

* * *

A narrow corridor with off white walls. Plain narrow stairs lead up and arches and doors arranged left and right. Just past the stairs, a giant stuffed bear with a green checkered bow around his neck insisted on blocking half the passage leading to the back door and a mound of shoes was piled up around a rack full of baseball bats and hockey sticks. There was a pink ribbon tied to the banister and a hula hoop parked near the back door beside a soccer ball.

"I dunno, where do you people normally talk? In the kitchen or the lounge?"  
"How about the lounge?" Hooter suggested, "There's usually a bit more space."  
"Ha, right." She led them through the arch to the right.

The TV set was enormous and all around a few science fiction movies lay scattered. Different coloured bean bags were strewn across the room. The bookshelf was entirely dedicated to housing and displaying a vast number of toy constructo robots, cars, miniature buildings, trees and action figures in combat poses. A giant darkly coloured poster of a rock star playing an electric guitar for an audience was on the wall opposite the TV.

Otherwise it was reasonably tidy.

"Party?" Drake asked.  
"I wish." The teenager scoffed, "This scene is called 'the tri-factor'." She shrugged, folding her arms. "I'm Catlyn Mallard. And I was downtown last night. I was bowling. I like to bowl. I like to bowl a lot, actually." She blinked at them. "I was nowhere near that jewelry store when it got robbed. Don't take your frustrations out on me. You guys look thirsty, I'll get you some water."

* * *

Drake glanced at Hooter and Morgana before following Catlyn to the kitchen. "What do you know about... the jewelry store robbery?"  
Catlyn sighed, filling up a jug with water. "You're telling me."  
"I'm sorry," he frowned, "That's really not a good enough answer. If you know anything about a crime, you need to report it."  
"No, I don't." She answered simply. "Everything I know, and will know knowing you, is second hand. That's not evidence, that's a game of Chinese Whispers. What you need to do is ask the first person in the chain what's the go." She snickered and brought down a stack of hard plastic tumblers from the cupboard.  
"Would you know the name of that person?"  
"No, but he's standing right in front of me."

She picked up the jug and walked out of the room.

Drake followed her back into the lounge, watched her putting the jug down on the coffee table and pour out three glasses of water.  
"That's a really impressive skill."  
"Uh, not really." Catlyn slighted with a half smile, handing him a glass; "My dad's just a grilling pro." She smiled.  
"Uh, what's your dad's name?"  
"Herbert Mallard." She answered. "He's a scientist."  
"How about your mother?"  
"Oh." Catlyn frowned, "She's just an office exec assistant. She's '_working late_' again." She added in a sing-song voice and shrugged, turning away.  
"Oh, and her name?"  
Catlyn turned back, "Gosalyn. Gosalyn Mallard. Then you've got my siblings and I know I grumble a lot about them, but they're actually angels... _'underneath'." _She added darkly. "Then you've got me, and I'm studying physics at the moment and I'm not having a good time on account of me not being '_a big bright shining star_' like everyone else in the whole universe so if you'll excuse my teenage mood swing..." She breathed, "Is there. No. _'If'_ there is nothing else?" She finished pointedly.

"No, thank you." Drake smiled at her. "But you know, being a star isn't the whole universe. Trees don't grow on stars. They grow on planets."  
Catlyn blinked back at him. "Erm, thank you, I think?"

They stepped outside.

* * *

Drake stepped up to the end of the short driveway. "So that explains that." He stated to Morgana and Hooter. "In a way that doesn't make any sense. For Gosalyn to have a daughter studying physics that makes this universe..." He counted, walking, "Roughly twenty-fivish years into the future."


	10. Avian Way

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**46**

**Avian Way**

* * *

They stepped out on Avian Way. As they neared, Drake stared up at it. "Oh, my gosh!"

It was a tall, dark shingle, white painted, Victorian style farmhouse with heavily hedged white fences. "That was not here when I last looked!" Little lamps hung at intervals along the fence line.

"What's the matter?" Morgana asked. "How is it supposed to look?"  
"Like a small two story building with a single garage and a tree."  
"You're saying it doesn't look like that to you?"  
Drake turned to her. "We're seeing different houses? Hooter?"  
"A very large, Victorian style house tightly fit onto a regular house block."

Hooter read out the warning sign on the fence. "It says '_beware the gnomes and fairies_'."  
"What says '_beware the gnomes_'?" Morgana said in mild frustration, "Confounded; it must be enchanted."  
"It looks enchanted to me," Drake agreed, "So; gnomes, Morgana?"

"Oh," She answered in mild frustration, "stay on the path, do not step on the grass. I assume there _'is'_ a path?"

* * *

Drake took her hand and led her along the path up the front steps.

The broom standing by suddenly took off, sweeping at them to get off the porch.

The door ripped open, "No-no-no!" In a white shirt and grey jumper, the youth caught the handle, "Naughty, Broomie, what did mum tell you?" He told it off.  
The resident was head and shoulders over Drake, built muscular but thin. He put the broom back in the corner and turned back to them. "I'm sorry, how can I help..." His gaze drifted to Morgana.

The light and pleasant tone in the youth's voice vanished and a much darker tone took its place, "Oh, I see. Come inside." He showed them in.

* * *

The hall was rendered in an artificial wood texture.

The young duck's eyes continued to draw to Morgana. "My name's Justin. Justin Mallard." He introduced himself in that same serious tone.

He showed them into the front right room. A basic TV stood in front of the thick curtain and laced street side window. A simple fireplace was parked on the interior wall between the small, compact lounge and the door. Two armchairs upholstered in a yellow tapestry stood off to the side in front of a busy looking bookcase. A small round table stood between them with a mouse statue on it.

"You've got a very nice house here." Drake started with a smile.  
Justin turned his eyes to Drake, glaring in suspicion. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"  
"Drake." Drake answered, perturbed by the quiet hostility. How had he off-sided this Justin so fast?  
Justin snorted, "No, Justin. And I'm the only one here at the moment, so I'm sorry but you'll have to speak to me or come back another day."

"Oh, that's fine," Drake attempted another smile in the face of this unwelcoming attitude, "may we ask what you do for a living?"  
"I'm a waitperson." Justin frowned, "Not sure what that has to do with you. Why do you feel the need to ask such a frivolous question?"  
Drake cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you offside."  
_"Really,_ are you _'sure'_ about that?" The tips of fangs had become visible as Justin spoke.

_Lurker vampire._ Drake blinked. "The reason I asked about the job, is because, are you aware, that there's a curse on the Mallard family blood line?"  
Justin's prickling continued, "Yes. Thank you. I am aware..." He stated stiffly. _"Oh!_ The broom!" Justin suddenly said, his voice a slightly higher pitch, "Broomie belongs to my mother."

Drake frowned. There was a panic at the base of this vampire's voice. "What have you _'done'?"_

A dark sedation replaced the prickling temper. The snake had coiled. Justin glared back. "Nothing yet. I'm just... waiting for you."  
_Definitely lurker._ Drake swallowed, "So, I see."

* * *

"Justin, what's the matter?" Morgana's voice, and feminine footsteps coming down the stairs.

Justin stepped away from Drake. "Some people from the witches council, mother." He gestured to them then vanished right before their eyes.  
"You'll have to excuse my son; he's a vampire." The Morgana duplicate said politely as she approached, "they're very... **'sensitive'."** Morgana stepped through the doorway and looked at the three of them. The resident Morgana was wearing a black dress with red trim very similar to one of his wife's: _same taste_. Recognition hit. _"What...? You're not from the witches council!"_ She rubbed her brow.

_"What's your son hiding from the witches council?"_ Drake asked automatically.

"**No,** he's **'not'** hiding anything; '**we're**' hiding '**him**'**."** Morgana replied argumentatively, "To the extent that they shouldn't know he's alive, but I'm sure he'll rectify that '**little detail**_'_ in a comparatively short interval now he's an adult." Her voice was dramatic and loud compared to his own Morgana beside him, "You're from that universe Dovesworth came from, I take it?" She folded her arms.

_Sudden calm._ "Yes." Drake swallowed, this woman was _intense._

"Oh, well, he's not come back, at least not to this house."  
"Why... why do you need to hide your son?" Drake asked, feeling rather weak.  
"A vampire and a witch; it's a terrible scandal. The witches council hold that vampires are not allowed to practice magic and vice versa." Morgana shrugged, "As such we sent all our children to public school."

"You..." Drake felt uncomfortable with the question, "Have other children?"  
"Our daughter Raya. The witches council **'know'** about her..." Morgana uttered in a tone of ill-appreciation. "Erm, you look rather pale. Are you alright?" She suddenly asked with new trace of concern.  
"I'm fine, I'm just trying to come to terms with everything."  
"Well. Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

"Thank you."

* * *

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen had been de-modernised with a hearth and a pot on the stove. They sat down at the plain wooden table. As the kettle boiled, the resident Morgana picked up the notebook near the stove, read the details on the front page and then put it down again.

"Your son," Morgana spoke from Drake's side, her voice so much lighter than the other's, "Is good with magic?"  
**"Level thirteen."** She answered thickly from the stove.  
"That's extraordinary." Morgana applauded lightly.  
"In of himself I agree. Since he's taught himself **solely** from books."  
"And you are...?"  
"Level ten."  
"Socially acceptable."  
**"Of course."**

"And your daughter?"

"She's a teacher." Morgana spoke as she made the tea on the sideboard. "Married; her address is in your notebook I should think. Her husband works for S.H.U.S.H.." Morgana handed them cups of tea. "Then there's our adoptive daughter, Gosalyn. She works at S.H.U.S.H. as well. She and Dark don't always see eye to eye, but then, that's the way he raised her." She sat down with her own cup.

"So you really only have one son?" Drake felt a little more assured of the sense it made.  
"My husband maintains he has three. We have four grandchildren at this present moment..." She paused in her listing, "er... extended families." She added in a slightly off tone, "A few friends. And then St Canard. The family computer is in the library."  
"Are you hiding anything?" Drake asked outright.

Morgana stiffened, "Just my husband's halfway house." She replied in some propriety, "It's all old computers and such things in there. He uses it now as a place to think sometimes, to sleep occasionally..." She sat back, "Uh. I feel so inordinately uncomfortable without him."

Drake wasn't sure that was the reason she felt uncomfortable. She was still withholding. He needed to try a different line.

"Has he ever bitten you?"  
The resident Morgana glared at him in a way that reminded him exactly of Justin.  
"Have you ever been bitten by a vampire?" He rephrased.  
Morgana stared at him. "**Oh, I see.** Well, for your second question, yes I was, and for your first question, my husband and I share a spirit link. Our energies are fused together; we are yin and yang and your question is meaningless."

A large spider climbed up on the table. It neared her fingers and she started patting it.

"You have a familiar." Drake's Morgana lightly noted.  
"Yes, that's a rather long story. You don't have one?"  
"No."  
"How on **'earth'** did you **'survive'**?!" The resident Morgana gazed in horror at herself.  
Morgana by his side hesitated, "Er, with some difficulty."  
"But however did you get away from him?"  
"Drake helped me."  
Resident Morgana's face took a slightly pink tinge. "Well. That's far more easy to imagine."

"Why doesn't your son recognise us?" Morgana asked, "We're basically his parents from an alternate universe."  
Resident Morgana was a little more pleasant in her tone now. "A vampire knows exactly where their family members are and I am right here. Therefore you're someone else."

"We need to find this halfway house." Drake resolved.  
"I said '**I**' was hiding it, not my husband." Morgana sighed, "The Audubon bridge." She shook her head. "You are playing against yourself, Darkwing... You are here." Morgana gazed solidly back at him. "That means you've already reacted. He's won."

Drake clenched his fist. this was doubly upsetting for the fact she was using it to block him. "He's playing chess with us. There are more pieces on the board than allowing only one move. I'm not taken out; I can still change the direction I'm moving."

"Perhaps you **'should'** go to the bridge. Try to make friends with my son. You might learn something that can help you against my husband."  
Drake sat back. "They don't get along?"  
Morgana raised an eyebrow as she brought her cup to her beak, "My son is his own person. He speaks for himself."

"I beg your pardon." Drake frowned in a blush. "The bridge?"

"No doubt he'll be there by the time you arrive." She glanced away.  
"Doing what?"  
**"Not my business,"** Morgana's voice was suddenly curt, **"is the answer to that."** She stood up. "Allow me to see you to the door."

With finality, Morgana ushered them out the door.

* * *

They walked along the path.

"That was a very sudden bluster. She was nice enough until that last question." Morgana ruminated as they trekked across the suburbs.  
"It's the maternal temperament." Hooter explained, "One sees it all the time in criminal cases. The mother protects the son. They are hard-wired to do it and it's very difficult for them to do otherwise. The most we can usually do as investigators is read the pain in their expressions to try and gauge how bad the situation their son is in."  
"Oh," Morgana responded hollowly, "Thank you. I suppose."  
Drake clasped her hand.

"Because she knew that of herself," Hooter considered, "That's why she had to send us off so quickly."  
"Did you get anything?" Drake asked him.  
Hooter was quiet for a time.

He answered at long length, "Something questionable."

* * *

"It's a rather ill-feeling," Hooter mused, "to think that vampire has our every move locked down before we've even done it. I can't see it, but it's easy to imagine. Vampires are rather on top of whatever their chosen line is."

"He's still a person." Drake replied stoically. "Now we know his weak point is his son. It's a defensive protection barrier."  
"But surely redundant now he's an adult," Morgana mentioned.  
"Which gives a good point to the question on how well the two get along." Hooter disagreed. "The boy is more than ready to look after himself."

"But do they get along?" Drake repeated.  
"His parents are still protecting him, there's at least some friction there." Hooter advised, "And we know he resents the witches council; to a point of preoccupation," Hooter continued in thought.

"But '_who doesn't_' resent the witches council?" Morgana dismissed, "My father heads the council so you know how atrocious they are by that statement. I do feel terribly sorry for him. Vampires are not well accepted in their circles at all."

They continued to walk. Drake checked his phone for the time and discovered it was flat. Instead he looked to the sun. "I think it'll be sunset by the time we get there."


	11. The Tower

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**47**

**The Tower**

* * *

They discovered the tower hideaway. True as Morgana had recounted, everything in here was some twenty years old. There wasn't any dust, however, and the ancient desk from the study in Drake's house stood, polished anew. Before the desk a small chess table stood with a scattering of pieces. In the far right corner, Drake could scarcely believe, a real life ThunderQuack.

Drake considered the computer station on the platform to the far left. "That's some pretty big computer tech. Guess vampires don't have a lot of use for it."

"Director Hooter?" A young woman's voice called from deeper in the place. She approached them. Her hair was a brownish red. She was tall, with jeans and a checkered work shirt over a white undershirt with the sleeves rolled up. She looked at the three of them as she approached. "You're wearing purple..." She gazed at Drake.  
Drake stepped forwards, "Darkwing Duck." He smiled at her. "Morgana Mallard and Agent Hooter from another universe."  
The girl shook his hand with a smile, "Ace McQuack." She flushed, "What can I do to help you guys?"

Why had Morgana specifically not told them about this person? Why was Justin nowhere around like she'd told them he'd be?

"Hello, Ace." Drake smiled at her. "What do you do for a living?"  
She frowned, "You couldn't come up with an easy question?" She sighed, "I'm..." She shook her head. "A S.H.U.S.H. agent, courier driver, grease monkey and stunt pilot."  
"You have a few jobs."  
"Yeah, I like keeping stuff interesting." She shrugged and looked at Hooter. "I get a little bit anxious thinking about being a manager at S.H.U.S.H.. Something about office chairs sort of freaks me out." She shrugged.

Drake glanced at Hooter. "That's okay, we're not asking about S.H.U.S.H.," he explained.  
She looked at him expectantly.  
"It's... a strange place to meet you."  
"I'm a strange person. If you don't want to meet strange people, don't go to strange places." It sounded like a parental parable.

"You... come here a lot then?"  
Ace narrowed an eye, "Not to sound like my mother," she folded her arms, "but I didn't inherit my dad's infinite amount of patience. Please explain why you're here so I can direct your enquiry."  
"We were looking to speak with someone called Justin Mallard," Drake answered.

"What about?" She asked plainly.  
Drake swallowed, "Well, I don't want to bother you any more than I have to."  
"_Pfft, just lost that battle_." She shrugged off the momentary sarcasm, "Rolling with it," she continued in light resignation, "come on, ask your thing."  
"You really aren't his secretary." Hooter interrupted.  
"No." Ace agreed. "I'm his front line. And it's gotta be a doozy to take me out." She said gamely and paused. "...Um, so... you have a good question?"

* * *

Drake stepped back to consider her. Justin and Ace had framed their strategy on army tactics. Supposedly their ultimate enemy was the witches council. If Ace was front line, that made Justin ranged attack. Vampires were more reputed for short range attack, so he was packing magic. Combining that with the noted feelings of resentment, Justin's psychology was far more witch than vampire. Witches tended for vengeance and penalization and judged behaviour quite fiercely. Conclusively, Justin's delineation was very much good and bad. Like a Mallard.

"A duck called Larkis Dovesworth came to my home looking for help." Drake started, "He has a problem with slipping between yours and our universe, but, unfortunately, he also has a very fragile psychology because what caused his problem was very unnatural and frightening. He disappeared, and returned the next day, saying he'd been to this universe again, but instead of finding my duplicate he found other people living in my house. As I'm sure you'd agree that anyone would, I found that a little disconcerting. He's a detective, and offered to make the enquiry.

"I didn't think it was a problem, because I felt that me being me, in an only slightly different reality as he described, my duplicate would feel the same as me, and want to help him. It is _'my'_ careless action, that's set a vampire onto this poor person. This person is in a severely fragile mental state. If this vampire gets him he won't recover. I need to get back in front of this vampire. I can't let him get to Mr Dovesworth."

Justin appeared out of shadow just behind Ace. "You seem very sure he'd harm Dovesworth."

"Mr Dovesworth was attacked by some kind of demon in the carnival. I appreciate the seriousness of that. But the details are locked in his head. He's too fragile to share the details. The vampire is going to tear him apart to get to them." _Like he did to me._

"One may express Dovesworth's mental state is due to a deficiency in his ability to heal himself." Justin began in a sober dark tone, "One may express a normal duck, has a deficiency in her ability to enact magic."

Ace rose her hands and with a look of concentration, cast a glowing glassy red dome around them.

"Ace has just cast a level five heart wall. It's her favourite spell, but if she really wanted, she could cast any spell I know including unbalanced magic at level thirteen. So you see, and the question is _'how'_ is she committing such vampirism on me."

The dome faded.

"The distilled nature of a vampire. Not blood, but energy."  
Drake tensed, _"You've bitten her!"  
_"There's more than one method."  
_"Yeah? So you bit her anyway?"  
_"I was trying to explain what my father-."  
_"Dodge! You don't want to answer, can't you face me, Justin?!"_

"Drake-." Morgana tried.

_"No!"_ Drake glared at Justin. **"Until you stop using Ace as your shield like a coward."**

Ace's eyes flew open and she stepped out of the middle.

"Alright, new topic," Justin shrugged glancing to Ace then back to Drake. "How about talking yourself out of my killing you?"  
Drake took an unsteady breath. Justin's voice was offish, but even. Drake still hadn't triggered him yet. "Nothing you're telling me is going to help me get to Mr Dovesworth first," he explained.

Justin blinked, "I thought you'd moved on from the idea of helping him in favour of having an animalistic argument with me."  
_"No, I haven't!"_ Drake gritted, "Tell me why you found it just so easy to sink your fangs into her neck?"  
"Because..." Justin sighed, "The first time, I was locking myself in as her protector..." He smiled lightly, his eyes wondering over in her direction. "Everything since then is animal lust."  
"Protector?" Drake hadn't heard of that one.  
Justin grew solemn. "I'm very serious about keeping her safe."  
Drake looked at Ace, "And you just let him do that? What's your side of this?"  
"Don't ever let yourself get bitten by someone you don't like." Ace recited another parental parable. "That's what Mr Mallard said. And I really like Justin. It's as much my doing as his."

Drake breathed. _This was so normal for these people!_ "The minute I walk back into my universe he'll have control over me again. See through me. He'll pull anything new I come up with out of my head. Like the magic you pulled from Justin's head. I will _'never'_ get in front of him."

"He bit you." Justin paraphrased.

Drake nodded. "Confounded me. I didn't even fight! He just... slipped up beside me and did it. It's wrecked me and it's _'nothing'_ to him! I can't get in front of him, he'll stop me at every right turn-_I-have-lost!_" He breathed. "Bite me."

Justin straightened. "That isn't a small thing."  
"I know," Drake nodded, "bite me."

Justin faced him.

_A gentle breeze swept around him, quiet clouds filled his head._

_A voice rose, quietly from inside his mind. __'Come to me.'_

Drake took up the few small paces between them. There was a minor vague notion that Justin was leaning down to him.

A sensation. Not strong enough for pain.

Images swirled.

* * *

_Justin went to his father settling down to start a session of writing out file notes at the study desk. __"Did you see how she treats me, dad?"  
__"Oh, she just likes you, son." Darkwing said in a reassuring tone.  
__"No, she wants to eat me!" Justin stomped his foot. "That's a huge difference, dad!"  
__"Justin, I... I thought you'd like her." Darkwing said in concern. "That's why I invited them over."  
_

_Justin shook his head furiously. "She's a big meanie."_

_"Hang on, is this the person who didn't understand about the curse?"  
__"Yes."  
__Darkwing was watching him closer, "All this time have you actually only been talking about this_ 'one'_ person?"  
__"Yes."_

_Darkwing put his hand over his face, gritting his teeth, "Oh, boy."_

_Justin raised his hands up over his head, "She's my biggest nightmare!"  
__"Don't talk her up that much, son."  
__"How do I get her to leave me alone?!"_

_Darkwing stood up and circled the table, looking down to Justin with a reassuring smile. "Well, no plan is perfect, but let's start by royally messing up her tracking."_

* * *

Drake felt the release. Before the dizziness made him lose his standing, Morgana had caught him.  
"Oh." She helped him to a seat.

* * *

_"But I'm not hungry!" Justin complained, standing across the mats from his father._

_"I don't care if you're hungry or not; you've got to_ 'look'_ like you're hungry! These little vampires keep having a go at you, because you're not making yourself look like a threat."_

_"But I don't want to hurt them!"_

_"Then it's even more reason to look scary! Tell them straight up that you're nobody's chew toy! I know it's hard, Justin, but if you want to be left alone, you're going to have to act like something they_ 'want'_ to leave alone. It's how you move, how you talk, what you say. It's not about you, it's about their impression of you and the impression you're going for is '_leave me alone_' so act hungry."_

_"But they'll see through that!"_

_"Not if you're good enough at it! So come on; let's try it again!"  
__"...I can't do it, dad."  
__"Anything Ace can do, you can!"  
__"Ugh!" Justin turned away. "Now you're just being mean."_

_"Alright, no tiger. What about snake? '_Don't you step on me: I bite_'? Yeah?" He clapped his hands twice. "Come at me with that one then."_

* * *

"What did you do to him?" Hooter asked.  
"What I had to. He has a different voice in his head now. Give him time."

* * *

_Justin hid in the tall grass, looking up at his father on his knees._

_"Wow, he's huge!" Justin breathed.  
__His father smiled. "Two of us; we're more than a match for him!" Darkwing said in encouraging enthusiasm. "I'll distract him, and you get up in that tree. When I bring him around, you jump on him. He won't know which way he's supposed to turn!" He finished excitedly._

* * *

"Drake." Morgana's voice drew him out of the whirling imagery, "We're going home now, come on."


	12. Round Two

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**48**

**Round Two**

* * *

By the time Darkwing woke up, his double had vanished from existence. That meant only one thing: Round two was on. He sent Steelbeak back to the other universe. J Gander Hooter was currently in deep discussion with the auxiliary research staff at S.H.U.S.H..

Darkwing travelled in shadow to Mallard Manor.

* * *

He found the front door unlocked.

"Disturbing." Darkwing frowned at the handle as he entered. "We always locked that door." He turned, assessing the body heat coming towards him in the hall. "T-Toby?"

The tiger paused, tipping his tail in uncertainty.

"Toby!" Darkwing felt a thrill of happiness and hugged the big cat for a long moment. He stood up. "Come on, Toby. We've got to set up." He looked around the hall. "Bit different..." He stood in front of the armour stand. "Hello, Sir Dusty, I see you haven't changed between universes. Ugh. Can't believe Simon actually got one of these." He shook his head and turned away. "Something something ego."

Darkwing stepped in front of the poster display. "Actor." He flipped through the vertical stand. Dissatisfied with the titles but one '_sort of_', he looked back at the Darkwing poster on the wall. He smiled, "something something ego something." He petted Toby persisting at his side and turned to the next display behind the staircase. This one housed an unremarkable set of old paperbacks and some scrap pages. Up on the wall hung an assembly photo. "S.H.U.S.H." He read the title, "Wow; really thinking hard about those guys." He turned, seeing a little model of the S.H.U.S.H. building in the last display box. "Hey; I remember that, it was in the attic. Weird." He tousled Toby's ears, "Things you don't connect, huh, Toby? Guess grandpa built it."

Darkwing walked into the kitchen. If Toby was here then that was his mother's heartbeats upstairs so that meant cooking. He consulted the fridge. Seeing what was in there made him slam it shut.

"Oh, no. I can't cook that!" He felt queasy. "Feed it to a cat? Sure. Cook it? Heck no." He rubbed his face and looked at Toby. "What, just staring at me," he petted Toby. "It's okay, Toby. I'll make one of Morgana's vegetarian casseroles. I'm sure mum'll like that. What's left?"

He went and checked the library. All the old books were back in there. The sitting room, the TV had been updated and there was a DVD player but otherwise same old. In the middle room, the piano was once again in its place. "Whoa, this is creepy," he stared at the piano stool. Dread memory about his father flooded through him. "I hate this place!" He stormed angrily from the piano room, skirting around Toby.

The hall wasn't as bad for unwanted memories. Except for the dust. Justin would not be happy in a place like this.

What was left? The laundry beside the kitchen and... "Cars. Cars are a thing for ducks," he reminded himself and went into the garage, Toby on his heels.

Empty space, car, car, Ratcatcher.

_Hang on, looks weird..._ He ran his mind over the mechanics. "Holy heck, were you in a fight with Megavolt or something? He stepped back and took stock of the scene. A closed briefcase sat out of place nearby, a tub of collected parts in the cupboard. scraps and bits lined the car supplies shelving unit. He went and flicked open the case. Gold encrusted electronics board with F.O.W.L. imprinted in micro writing.

"Oh, you're doing what Steelbeak did. I see." Darkwing shrugged and turned. "What do you think, Toby? Leave it alone or help fix it up for him?"  
Toby moved to the door looking back at him expectantly.  
"Alright, Drake, it's your toy." Darkwing closed the case and put it back.

* * *

Darkwing started making up the casserole.

"Hello, Drake, I didn't realise you got back."  
"Hi, mum," he smiled to Eleanor at the doorway. She was dressed in a blue shirt and cargo shorts, smelling of acrylic paint. "Casserole for dinner."  
"Oh, you didn't see the roast?"  
"I thought I'd try one of Morgana's recipes."  
"Where is she?"  
"Gone visiting." He answered, "She'll only be a few hours I expect."

"Oh, okay. I've got to say, I'm glad they're finally giving you some time off." She left him alone.

She looked well.

Darkwing's smile faded. He petted Toby. "You can't blame her for lying..." he cringed, "I totally blame her for lying."

* * *

A car pulled up into the garage.

"The empty spot." Darkwing frowned. Heart beats, Male, late fifties. exhausted and weary. His mother's husband? Darkwing went to put tea on, realising awkwardly that the only way he could tell if this guy wasn't supposed to be here was if Toby reacted negatively.

His mother's husband? What did Drake call this guy? How long had they been together? How well did Drake get along with him? Were they unhappy housemates? One thing was for sure; this guy was the reason his mother was living... because it sure as heck wasn't for Drake.

Drake put the tea in the pot as the duck came in through the doorway.  
"Oh, you read my mind." The guy said.  
Toby was friendly.  
"I figured." Darkwing responded, commenting on his health state, "Working all hours. You look exhausted."  
"Well, it's under control now."

The guy smelt heavily of soap as he moved around Drake, pulling a cup out of the cupboard. He'd scoured himself off something fierce before he'd come here so whatever job he'd been at had to be as messy as sin. "You better let mum know you're home." Darkwing stated, "She wouldn't know what to do without you." He stirred the casserole.  
"Oh, that Hooter still giving you a hard time?" He went and got the milk from the fridge.  
Darkwing froze, recalling what Drake had told him. _'He's tried to kill me four times, what can I say?'_  
"Boy. What do you need to do to make him lay off you?" He came back and made up his tea.  
Darkwing frowned uneasily, "Hooter's fine."

"Yeah, now I know you need help. Talk to Grizlykoff. They worked together fifteen years; he's got to have some practical hints for you to get a handle on the guy."  
"Okay. Let's try the bazooka to the face instead of the knife in the back," he snorted, "Thanks for the advice."  
"Look, I know you don't want to put more work on his plate, but that's what he's there for. Protocol 3."

He put his hand on Darkwing's shoulder, "You got this."

The physical contact was instantly stressing him out. Protocol 3? What the heck was a protocol 3? How was he to respond to this guy?  
"Yeah," he smiled, pulling away to wash up the cutting board and knife. "Thanks."  
"My god you look worse than I feel." The guy exclaimed, "No more giving people blood samples, you hear?" He said in a suddenly authoritarian voice.  
It didn't seem a point to argue. "Yes, sir." Darkwing responded in a similarly strong tone.

"That's better." The guy smiled, downed his weak milky tea and left the room.

"Go say hello to mum." Drake guessed and his hearing tracked him doing exactly that. Drake turned to Toby sitting near the fridge, "Wow, you were a lot of help," he said in sarcasm, "he came right at me."

Darkwing left the kitchen for the study. _Find his ID..._

"I don't have time for this." He flicked quickly through. "Drake Mallard, Drake Mallard, Harold Mallard, Harold D Mallard, Eleanor S Mallard, Eleanor Mallard..."

Darkwing pushed the papers back in horror. "What, what are you?" He looked at Toby. "Well, you don't have papers, so I guess he's like another pet... oh, of course." He mentally slapped himself. "He's one of tho-ose."  
Toby stared at him.  
"A 'boyfriend'. It's a duck thing; I just never really thought about my mum that way. Funny, huh?" Darkwing talked to Toby. "So in this universe, mum met this guy like a genuine knight in shining armour. Why hasn't he moved in though? Is Drake fussy about it?" He paused, considering, "He is pretty starchy. So Drake's too offish to let this guy move in, so I have no papers giving his name. So I don't know how to address him." He sighed in annoyance, "stuck up brat. I was never a stuck up brat."

He left the room, the dust layering the hall served as a new prickling annoyance. He went to the service cupboard and got the rags and the polish. "I was a good kid. I mean look at this mess. I would never let it get this bad." He reset the lance's position to the way it was supposed to be. "There, that's ten times better. Honestly, some people. He's worse than Gosalyn. '_Hey, cool, a four hundred year old dusty fossil, let's go hurl it at someone_'. I don't even _'want'_ to know about his bedroom."

Repulsed by the smell of the polish and wood varnish, Toby took himself outside. Irritation carried Darkwing on from one display to the next; Darkwing cleaned the hall then went through to the garage to stare at the disassembled bike, "Yeah, the guy can't even dust and he wants to refit the computer on this thing? One Launchpad short of a Darkwing Duck, that's for darn sure." He grabbed the case and flicked it open.

* * *

He made steady progress.

After a while, the house door opened, "Dinner, Drake." The unnamed duck said lightly.  
"Oh, I'm not hungry. You go spend time with mum."  
The duck straightened. _"Kitchen. Now! That's an order!"_ He barked.  
Darkwing rose from the side of the bike in surprise. _Seriously, did he just-._

_"Why are you still here? Shake the lead out!"_

Darkwing silently moved past him through the door and went to the kitchen. Grizlykoff. His mum was dating a Grizlykoff?

* * *

His mother finished serving out the casserole and Darkwing sat down as far away from the tyrannous duck as possible. He lifted his spoon and attended to eating.

"Is there something wrong with Morgana's recipe?" Eleanor asked.  
_Huh?_ Darkwing glanced up as the duck handed his mother the pepper.  
"No, it's just the way he's made it." The duck answered in a clipped tone. "What do you remember of your father, Drake?"

That was an open ended question.

"Not much." Darkwing said honestly, "He was a firefighter. He'd been in the army and he'd studied architectural engineering. He was pretty clever." He smiled, watching, swirling his food "He gave me a harmonica for my birthday once. He knew I liked music over a jungle gym or a computer."  
"He died in a fire." The duck said.

_No he didn't._ The outright lie flared up a deep heat inside of him, forcing him to put down his spoon. "He knew fire," Darkwing got up. "It was everybody else that died in that fire. Because there was nobody there to save them." He left the room and locked the door to the garage. He went back to the bike to finish the insulation. No way was some duck-sized Grizlykoff going to interfere with him rescuing Dovesworth.

* * *

His mechanical know-how only went so far and this was the end of the line.  
"A minor setback." Darkwing said to himself, regarding the brainless machine as he put the cowl over it. "So I just need to wait till-."

Heartbeats registered suddenly just outside the lot. Drake, Morgana and Hooter.

"Oh, well, that was quick."

Darkwing couldn't sense Drake's mind, however. "What did he do? He..." Darkwing considered, "Three guesses as to _'who'_ bit him. Let's just hope it's not the one I need to see for the bike because this next conversation could be _'awkward'."_ He shrugged and turned to shadow. Time to collect J Gander Hooter.


	13. Bat Brains

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**49**

**Bat Psychology**

* * *

Scrooge McDuck felt grave misgivings as he stepped into Duckburg's hospital. He went up the stairs.

In the corridor on the first floor, he found Gizmoduck waiting for him.  
Scrooge gazed at him as he walked up. "You actually stopped 'em lad, well done!"  
Gizmoduck frowned, "Only these two, I was too late for the other two; they took them."  
Scrooge stopped in front of him. "Lad, any victory at all is nigh on impossible against a hungry vampire. How'd you do it?"  
"I heard people screaming towards the pier." Gizmoduck said soberly. "How could they do it? It's a kid friendly place. It doesn't matter the hour."

"What was their attack strategy like?" Scrooge frowned. "Did they have 'em pinned down?"  
Gizmoduck tensed slightly, "For what I made of it, yes. I was in a bit of a hurry."  
"Aye, so you were." Scrooge shook his head in amazement, "Well done."

"Sir." Gizmoduck asked, "May I ask why you told me to stay here rather than go back to the docks?"  
"You're needed here," Scrooge repeated from earlier, "the police have got that place, there's only four of them; they won't try it again in one night. On the other hand, you interrupted something and those two vampires have a blood lock. They'll be driven to finish what they've started."

* * *

The doctor stepped out of the room.

"Doctor Millien, were you able to stabilize them?" Scrooge asked.  
"Yes."

The other doctors and nurses left.

Millien turned to face Scrooge. "Do you know what happened?"  
"Aye. They were attacked by something that likes the taste of blood. We've been after these monsters for several nights now. This is the earliest we've been able to stop them."

Doctor Millien closed the door after the others. "Along with extreme blood loss and injury, the two patients have been injected with something. It's going to take a while for the samples to come back on the substance report. McDuck, what do you know about this venom?"  
"It's vampire venom."  
Millien gazed at him in thought. "A... very large... bat." He interpreted, folding his arms, "The anticoagulant is a definite sign of hematophagy." He shut his eyes, shaking his head. "These monsters give vampire bats a bad name."

"We don't have three days to wait for pathology." Scrooge stated, "Can you please tell them to make it a top priority. We have to know what else was in that venom."  
"We're already making it a priority." Millien answered, "We should have it back sometime tomorrow."

"I'm thinking..." Scrooge searched his memory for a more immediate answer, "if we can talk to them, I remember, that makes a difference." If he could just remember what difference...  
"You can try." Doctor Millien opened the door.

* * *

Scrooge pushed through the door into the ward. He looked at the two people in the beds.

He stepped up to the woman patient. The amount of plastering on her neck told him this was a fledgling bite.  
"Can you hear me, lass?" He said softly to her.  
No response.  
His frown deepened.

Scrooge moved over to the patient in the other bed, another heavy plastering.  
"Can you hear me, lad?" He asked quietly.  
The duck's eyes sprang open. He grabbed Scrooge's arm, "He's coming!"  
Doctor Millien hurried over and pulled him back.  
_"He's going to kill me!"_

Scrooge got free and spun about as the window opened.

The face at the window stared dead pan at them, "Aw, heck no."  
Gizmoduck jumped out the window after him.

_"I told you!"_ The patient stressed, desperately holding onto the doctor's arm. _"He hates me. He's always hated me."  
_"Gizmoduck'll keep him from coming back. You're going to be alright."

* * *

Scrooge drew Doctor Millien back. "From that little scene we know he's not infected. But I don't know about her. I need your staff to stay on top of her readings. If she's been infected it's a whole different ball game."  
"Infected, infected with what?" Millien asked.  
"Vampirism." Scrooge answered in confusion, "Sorry, I thought we'd already had this discussion."  
Millien widened his eyes, "You're kidding me? You're actually talking about vampire ducks!"  
Scrooge frowned, "You'd rather go on believing in bats the size of ducks?"  
"When you put it that way..." Doctor Millien straightened. "So now you're saying ducks with bat brains in some sort of strange Frankenstein experiment." He shook his head, looking away back to the beds. "Evolution." He concluded.  
All Scrooge could do was shrug.

"Given bat brains," Millien considered, "they'll be wanting to collect her. Bring her into their social group."  
"Aye. It seems to be how they've been acting," Scrooge agreed, "We can't let them do that."  
"Is there an antidote for this infection?"  
Scrooge shook his head. "I'd certainly remember if I'd read about that."  
"Then what else but let them take her?"  
_"What else?"_ Scrooge returned, "Doctor, these monsters are fast, strong and literally blood thirsty. If they get hold of her, there'll be seven of them holding up the next public venue instead of six. Blast it, where is Gizmoduck?"

Several minutes had passed. Scrooge had felt the tension build inside him. What if they turned and actually tried to jump Gizmoduck?

* * *

There was the familiar motor sound and Gizmoduck came back in the window.

"Ach, thank goodness." Scrooge stepped up to him. "Please be careful, lad." He frowned, "Don't follow them too far. Especially not if you find their nest."  
"Erm..." Gizmoduck hesitated, "Sir, I needed to try and do a reading of the point when he changed."  
"Did you get it?"  
"Yes." Gizmoduck answered, "I'll need to analyse the data. The suit needs upgrading, I just need to figure out what to."  
Scrooge frowned, "dealing with this sort is one thing. I can't even say they're common. It's the first I seen of a vampire actually running."

"If Vanesia is infected," Millien stepped forwards, "You'll need to find a non hostile vampire group that can take her in."  
"Non hostile vampires?" Scrooge blinked back at Millien, "Is there something you know that I don't, doctor?"  
"McDuck!" Millien frowned, pointing back at the patient, "I just spent two hours saving this person's life. You have no right to cast judgement on my patient! Where there's one social group, there's going to be more. That's how bats work, that's how we work and at a glance, that's how they work too." Millien shook his head, "All you have to do is find another social group to take her in. Then she won't be '_the seventh_'. Bats are very community driven; I doubt another social group would turn her away."

Scrooge gazed at Millien, "I'll do my best." For a split second he felt very pale. "Gizmoduck. Keep watch. Those blood-locks will keep 'em trying to get into this room." He swallowed, "I'm gonna go searching for non-hostile vampires."

Wherever they might be.


	14. Trouble

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**50**

**Trouble**

* * *

**Knock Knock.**

Drake woke from the heated haze of dreams to the sound of the door knocker shaking the room.

He bolted out of bed and raced to the door.

_It was being held shut!_

Drake grabbed the grapple gun and base jumped himself out the window. The front door was open and he sent a flying webkick at the vampire.

"Mr Dovesworth." Drake said, turning, breathless, "are you ok-argh!"

_A bright sharp light!_

It hit his eyes and came from outside. Drake cringed, shielding his eyes and fumbled desperately for the door handle. Drake shut the door from the light and turned. The vampire was behind Larkis.  
"No, let go of him!"

The vampire, in his black and grey Darkwing costume, let go and raised his arms in surrender.

**"Excuse me, but I have some demons to decimate."**

Drake watched the vampire slip past Larkis and open the door. The light from outside was gone.

"Nice work, Trouble." The vampire said as he shut the door between them.

* * *

Drake turned. "Mr Dovesworth?"

He was in a stupor.  
"Oh no..." Drake's heart clenched; he'd been too late.

* * *

Drake pulled Larkis into the kitchen. "I'm so sorry!" He madly made tea. If anything was going to help, a cup of tea would.

Morgana, in a dark blue dress, with her straight black hair flowing past her shoulders came in, "what happened?" She asked in a worry.  
Drake put the cup down in front of Larkis and stepped away. "I... I reacted." Confronted, he drew back and hurried out of the room.

What _had_ just happened? Why _had_ he failed?

* * *

First there was the bright light. Where had that light come from? The drive. Drake pulled open the front door and stepped out.

His motorcycle was parked out there.  
"How did you get outside?"  
It had clearly been the headlight that had shone in his eyes. But that would mean the headlight was connected?

For a moment, he straightened his rumpled purple outfit. The last thing he remembered from yesterday had been Justin.

"I'm just tired."

Deeply frazzled, Drake kicked the foot up and walked the bike back into the garage.

"Okay, now you stay in here where it's safe. I don't want you hurt too."  
He frowned tearfully and shut the garage door on his bike.

The vampire had used light to beat him. With his infra red vision, it didn't make any difference to a vampire.

* * *

Drake stepped back into the house and shut the door.

Now he noticed the smell of polish and varnish.

Where was Toby? He should've pinned that vampire down after that webkick.

Drake went looking.

* * *

Toby was asleep outside, up on the obstacle course wall.

_Polish. Reaction.  
__Light. Reaction._

_Door locked, window unlocked.  
__Front door open..._

_The vampire had left the front door open!_

"Showing off; everything's a game to him!" Drake exclaimed angrily. "He could've shut that door, then I would've had to burst in sparing him an extra-." He stopped. "The door could've hit Mr Dovesworth."

"But why would that matter to him?"

At least Toby was alright.

* * *

Drake stepped into the kitchen from the side door. Morgana was still sitting beside Larkis.  
"Morgana, is there any way to-."  
She put her finger to her beak, looking up to him.

* * *

Drake went and sank into the study chair where he couldn't do any more damage. "Stuffed up again." He said sullenly to himself. "I'm supposed to be better than this."

Baby appeared from the rafters, wended his way to his favourite sunspot on the desk in front of Drake.

There was a presence at the door. Drake twisted the chair to see Larkis Dovesworth standing there.

"Thank you." Larkis took a seat on the ottoman.  
Drake was quiet. "How're you feeling?"  
"Like I've been in a deep sleep." Larkis answered basically. "The metafluxer is gone. He removed it. Goodness knows how he managed that, but it's gone."  
Drake closed his eyes. "He bit you."  
"No. I don't think so."

"He hasn't?!" Drake stood up and looked carefully at Larkis' neck.

In shock he sat back down on the desk chair. "He hasn't..."

This was what Justin had been trying to tell him. "He used his energy to help you heal. A kind of reverse vampirism."  
"Ah, yes. So he did." Larkis mused quietly. "I note you didn't trust him to do that."  
Drake flinched and turned away. "No, sir. I did not."  
"May I ask why?"

"Small picture people, big picture people." Drake shook his head. "Either you're a director or you're a field agent. It's protocol 5."  
"I admit..." Larkis paused, "S.H.U.S.H. protocols are worthy for adherence. But protocol 5 only applies over the director himself; given his role. People outside that scope are allowed to think in both. We are as flexible as we allow ourselves to be."

"You sound alright. I'm really glad. I majorly stuffed up on this one."  
"You weren't to know."  
"Ignorance is no excuse. I should never have sent you on an unverified lead."  
"With all due respect, _you are not my mother_."

Drake was startled at the snap back.

* * *

"When I approached the house it gave many signals that it was a witch's dwelling. The odd character of it was the fairy feeders. Only an alternative lifestyle witch draws fairies to their doorstep. Nobody else. At this point I'd like to append a note that fairies are vicious little things when roused. As are gnomes, and those were advertised in the garden. Though I didn't see one, I would hazard to believe they were there given the fairies. Such a pairing is as good as a pair of junk yard dogs." He shifted position.

"From this very dominating notion I was invited in by a vampire. It was around ten in the morning. A standard clock on even the most healthiest of vampires sets them to be rather groggy and ill-disposed between the hours of six and four so it gave me quite pause to find him exceptionally bright-eyed. I then rather boldly asked if his father, Drake Mallard, might be in. At this point I knew I would be facing either vampire or witch. It turned out to be the former."

Drake frowned.

"I apologised for waking him, and began by asking him of his general opinion of the four vampire disciplines. His preferences on a general note..."  
"He shut you down?"  
"He corrected me, saying there were five." Larkis smiled. "He immediately realised what I had just made him do. At that point he started laughing."  
"He could've been really upset."  
"At which point the conversation would have ended."  
"Yeah; one way or another."

Larkis shook his head. "It was an extremely trivial piece of information that told me much more of him than the number he corrected."  
Drake shook his head. "I don't know enough. That information isn't in any case files."  
"Oh, it's a rudimentary delineation between vampires." Larkis shrugged, "Fancy titles, the grunt of it is in Condoris' case files. Think it over for a moment."  
Drake paused, shuffling his mind through his memories, "There are four disciplines."

Larkis nodded. "In every criminal case, the vampire suffered a skewing of personality into one of the four areas. The hot head, the lurker, the loner and the busy signal."  
Drake nodded. "So what's the fifth discipline?"  
"As your vampire duplicate contended 'heart'. He's heart discipline. One can't lie with such consistent vehemence. He was open to me; I felt very compelled to trust him."

Drake sat back in his chair.

"I didn't simply walk up and hand myself over to a vampire without so much as a 'by your leave'."  
Drake stood up, gesturing, "Well, that makes one of us. And you're more important so that's good."

Larkis stood up. "I'm not more important, what happened to you?"

"I accidentally knocked him over when we were both after some criminals. He said 'Whenever you're ready to put your ego down.' I thought that was doable. I approached him based on how he acted with the criminals. Instead he attacked me... made me a revenant. There was no consideration of me; just the big picture. I'm glad you got a better deal."

"A thing I've noticed," Larkis looked at him, "Is that of either of you; it's _'you',_ who doesn't consider yourself. I believe, that if you stop and think the entire situation over, you'll find he's considered you so much you don't even recognise it."

* * *

Drake let Larkis out the front door.

"I need a holiday," he sighed and headed to the garage. "What did he do to my poor bike?" He looked around for the parts. All he found were tools. The special circuit boards were gone from the briefcase. Drake felt his hope plummet. "He took them. Wow, that's... harsh. I... guess I... deserved it...?" He shrugged back the unpleasant feeling and grabbed the screwdriver, "Alright," He resigned with a sigh, stepping over to the bike, "So how did he jury rig your light?"

He was three steps away and a shrill alarm went off from the bike. Drake jumped back, holding his hands to his earslits, dropping the screwdriver. It clattered to the ground and the noise stopped.  
The garage was echoing. It didn't fade completely, eventually Drake realised he was hearing the noise of a computer, humming softly.

"He didn't... are you... _are you alive?_" He asked in trepidation.

_"I am the Trouble, drive system not booted, in the garage. Species identified duck. Please state the nature of you."_

"I'm Drake Mallard. My name's on your registration papers. I'd like to be friends with you."  
Trouble hummed mechanically. _"Insufficient response."  
_"You asked a very broad question." Drake shrugged, "Specify definition of _'nature'_ in this context?"  
_"New driver must pass synchronicity diagnostic test prior to drive system initialisation."_

Drake blinked, "So just to double check; it isn't enough that I pay your registration and have a motorbike license to be able to drive you?"  
_"Correct."  
_"Well, Trouble. Can you please run a cross check verification on S.H.U.S.H. personnel files for Drake Mallard, code-name '**Darkwing Duck**'."  
Trouble hummed. _"Insufficient response."  
_"What?!" Drake exclaimed. "Is there some kind of progress meter on this?"  
_"75% match."_

Drake breathed, "Oh, that sneaky sneak, okay!" He stepped back and centered his mind.

**"I am the terror that flaps in the night."**

**"I am the brake pads on the vehicle of crime!"**

**"I am _Darkwing Duck_!"**

The motorcycle engine started up with an almighty ripping roar making Drake jump slightly.  
_"My bike!"_ He stared at it, rumbling to go.

"No-no, Trouble! W-we can't go anywhere right now."  
"You're kidding me?" Trouble said in a gruff feminine voice in a sarcastic tone. Trouble's engine cut off.  
The changed voice startled Drake. "Sorry, what did you just say?"  
"You're kidding me." Trouble said in the flat feminine tone, "It's the top listed response for turning on the engine without moving anywhere. I do have a few other choice remarks available."

Drake swallowed. Apart from the accent, it could almost be Jane Waddlemire's voice. The same person who configured the voice modulator had also configured the self defense protocols.

He stepped away from Trouble. "We'll, go for a drive later, Trouble."  
"You bet." The female voice replied. "Also, you mind clearing the space in front of that power socket before you go? There's WiFi, but no sun in here."  
Drake move the rope box so Trouble could plug in. He stepped out of the garage, back along the corridor into the house.

Drake turned, looking at the gleaming armour beside him. "So that's how he beat me."  
"Drake?" Morgana came out from the kitchen.  
"That's how he beat me, Morgana," he gestured to the stand. "He took out my backup and brought in his own," Drake sighed. "Three sons, she said it. If I'd followed them all up I would've known. Remember, we saw all that computer equipment and I said how it was twenty years out of date?"  
"Yes."  
"That was because neither he or Justin cared for computers. But that didn't mean one of the other two sons didn't."  
"Oh, that's right. Catlyn said her father was a scientist."  
"And Morgana said he was working at S.H.U.S.H.." Drake shook his head. "How on earth can I call myself a detective?"

"Oh, Drake," Morgana gave him a commiserating kiss. "How can you expect to have a clear head? By biting you he made you personally involved."  
Drake flinched, "That's true..." He looked away from her, to top it all off he felt grubby. "I feel like everything lately has been about me. The antijack. Doctor Bellum. Hooter. The only person minding his own business is Steelbeak. Quietly digging a hole to the centre of the earth."  
"Goodness knows why, though." Morgana put her finger against her beak in puzzlement.

"F.O.W.L. is S.H.U.S.H.'s business." Drake shrugged, shook his head and started up the stairs with the idea for a shower. "Meanwhile, me, I need a holiday." He looked back down at her with a smile, "and a nice peaceful day with my beautiful wife sounds like the perfect way to spend it."


	15. Mark of the Vampire

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**51**

**The Mark of the Vampire**

* * *

Scrooge McDuck was leaning back in his study chair, staring blankly at his computer screen, a book open on the desk.

There was a knock on the door. Mrs Beakley stepped tentatively into the room.

"Aye?" Scrooge eyed her languidly.  
She stood to casual attention in her grey suit and apron, her hands behind her back. "Do you wish to talk about it, sir?"

He frowned at the website on his screen.

_Hamil Corp_

"About what?" He asked dryly.  
"What you were yelling about earlier." She answered simply.  
Scrooge cast his eyes to the phone. "I spent all morning looking for these people," he gestured to the screen, "then I waited till three to finally talk to their CEO and you know what he said to me?"  
"That they couldn't help? At a guess."  
"That they _'can'_ surrogate. But they _'won't'_ surrogate _'her'._ He said their doctors wouldn't help because there are 'Too many issues'. If it hadn't been a fledgling bite, or if the fledgling bite hadn't been hostile." He shut his eyes, cringing. "But not both."  
"They'd rather let her be taken by the others?"

Scrooge looked down at his phone again, "Nobody exists, according to him, that can help someone who's suffered an infecting bite from a hostile fledgling."

Beakley looked down at the book in front of him. "What have you been reading?"  
Scrooge spun the book around for her. "How to surrogate for the victim of a hostile fledgling." Scrooge lifted up the pendant from around his neck and handed it over to her.

Beakley took the pendant in her hand and regarded the text on the page. "Good lord. This is an incredibly detailed text."  
"Oh aye," He agreed, "thick as porridge; cut it with a knife and lather it on yeh mornin' crumpets."  
She pulled back to look at the cover, "The Mark of the Vampire." Beakley hesitated, looked down at the pendant in her hand. "Scrooge..." She held up the necklace. It glowed red in the light. "This is-."

"Where did you meet your first vampire, Uncle Scrooge?" Dewey asked from the doorway, interrupting her.  
"Bet it was Eastern Europe, that's here all the classic old vampires hang out." Huey guessed.

* * *

Scrooge eyed the kids wryly as all four made appearance at the door. "No, an' I cannae say it was a very _'big'_ incident... I was arranging some business prospects over in North Plains. They'd apparently struck oil there and were interested in a partnership venture with McDuck Enterprises. So off I hoofed to Lorenton Valley... or in this case I took the train."

* * *

_"Cattle farming country. Every hill and nearly every dale. Miles upon miles of wide open grassland. The train ride to Lorenton saw me there after dark._

_'Ah, Mr McDuck.' The duck in a tweed business suit came to shake my hand at the platform, 'Edgar Curtrew. I'm Mr La Chupreveira's accountant.'_  
_'The name's Felix La Chupreveira.' I looked to the fox in the cowboy hat and the poncho. 'My family owns the most of these here parts,' The fox tipped his hat. 'Pleased... making your acquaintance, sir.'_

_The town wasn't big enough for asphalt, let alone a taxi service. In a matter of a few minutes walk we were at the hotel saloon. The woman behind the bar was introduced as Felix's wife. Bella took my bag upstairs while the three of us sat down to refreshments._

_'How was the trip?' Felix asked.  
__'Aye, it was fine.'  
__'Still right tiring. Being up for fourteen hours straight with all that locomotive noise.'  
__'I caught up on some reading.' __I shrugged, 't__hough there's certainly something to be said for being on solid land.'  
__'The train system is the valley's main export line.' Edgar stated, 'A feat of mechanical engineering; The trains deliver food right across the continent.'_

_'Don't have many outsiders come visiting these parts.' Felix said, 'What do you think of this saloon set up?'  
__'Very spacious,' I answered, 'Though you can't have many customers.'  
__'True.' Felix agreed, 'All the money is in export. You're gonna love the steak Bella's cookin' up; freshest in the country.'_

_Edgar cleared his throat. 'If we're not going to discuss business-.'  
__'McDuck needs rest from his travelling, Edgar. Let's save talk of business for the meeting in the morning.'  
__Edgar stared back at Felix. 'Of course. Excuse me.'-"_

* * *

"Edgar's the vampire, isn't he?!" Louie interrupted suddenly.

Scrooge blinked. "Ach, I was on a business trip. It was nothing to do with vampires at that present moment. He seemed perfectly normal for an accountant, lad."  
"Yeah. It kinda makes you wonder how many accountants are closet vampires." Louie considered, "Still, am I right?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes, "As I was saying."

* * *

_"The meal was as grand as Felix promised. Bella came out and joined us, and it was the most relaxed time of the evening. It was only after Bella left with the plates, that Felix told me the real reason he'd brought me up there._

_'My ancestors have lived in Lorenton Valley for hundreds of years. We fill the carnivorous plate from East to West coast. But that is nothing to why I've need of the services of the famous Scrooge McDuck.'  
__I was rather taken aback. 'Services? I thought-.'  
__'There's no oil. Sorry for baiting you like that. But if there were oil around here I would be off plugging the hole; we don't need that kind of business 'round here. Nope. Need you for something else.' Felix pulled out a stack of pictures and put them on the table in front of me. 'There's a vampire preying on this here community.' Felix glared darkly at the photos. Out in these parts we follow the law and way of the land.' He pointed to the photos, 'Take him out and dust him.'_

_I was feeling a little out of my league. 'There are experts out there for this sort of matter. Actual Vampire Hunters.'  
__'You haven't made the acquaintance of one?'  
__'No,' I confessed.  
__Felix shook his head, 'A Vampire Hunter would burn down the whole of Lorenton Valley in an act of righteous cleansing." He pointed, "This here is a single vampire causing a problem."  
__'Felix, it's not that I don't want to help', I sighed, 'but all I know of vampires is heresay.'_

_With that, Felix showed me upstairs, through to a library nook. There was a bookshelf full of ancient tomes and an antique mahogany writing desk and chair. _

_'La Chupreveira don't read anything bigger than an income statement.' Felix stated, 'These books belonged to my great grandmother.'  
__I pulled a book from the cupboard to investigate but discovered it was blank._

_Felix opened the desk drawer. He pulled out a drawstring trinket bag and handed it to me. I put the book down on the desk and looked. Inside the bag was a length of leather looped around this pendant._

_The moment I took hold of it, lettering on the book spines on the entire bookcase lit up to a shining gold. Words appeared on the pages of the book on the table and I could read every one of them._

_'Mr McDuck. Rid our community of this lawless savage and everything in this room is yours to keep as you wish. I'll have it transported to Duckburg in a jiffy on your say so.'_

* * *

"So-oo, you got the vampire?" Louie asked for confirmation. "And it was Edgar?"

Scrooge looked up from his memories to the children. "Yes, and it was Edgar." Scrooge mocked lightly. "Edgar was what S.H.U.S.H. call a 'Loner' vampire. Big on vanishing. Immune to water. Not big on sunlight or fire. He had difficulty fitting in, a newcomer with no family or real friends. When Edgar Curtrew didn't show up to the meeting the next morning, well, it didn't take too much to find him amongst fifty buildings and everybody knowing everybody else's name." He shook his head. "No mystery at all. They all knew who it was; just like you, Louie. They just didn't have the person to do it. They were all peaceful country folk."

Dewey picked up the pendant. "Wow."  
Scrooge chuckled. "Aye. Wow indeed."  
"So, how much was the desk worth?" Louie asked.  
"Louie...!" Scrooge admonished, "Five thousand dollars, _but that's not the point_. These books were the real treasure. You can't put a price on rare and ancient knowledge as invaluable as this," he sighed.

Mrs Beakley picked up the pendant from Dewey's fingers, "Unless I'm very much mistaken," she stated dryly, "this is vampire blood."  
"Aye, it would be. I never gave it much thought."  
_"Ew!"_ Dewey shrank back, _"and you let me touch that?"  
_"It's encased in crystal, lad!" Scrooge argued him back to sanity, "If the thing broke it'd only turn to dust; it's perfectly safe."  
"Super cool power up!" Webby took it and held it up. "Oh!" She realised, "So these are books on vampires, by vampires, for vampires!"

Scrooge looked back down at the blank book. "Unfortunately it takes a real vampire to fix a vampire problem, Webby."  
"Like the person who wrote this book." Webby looked on the inside cover. "Oh." She looked on the cover, "They didn't put their name on it."  
"That's coz' of _'calling'."_ Scrooge shrugged. "No vampire would put their real name on paper. It'd be used against them. Someone wrote all these books. Someone who, according to the CEO of Hamil Corp, doesn't exist." He sank back in the chair.

"Then we're fortunate this '_past tense vampire_' was good enough to write a book on it;" Mrs Beakley stated, "all that's needed now is a vampire that can read. Agent SplasherQuack is certainly capable of doing that or she couldn't file her mission reports."

Scrooge stared at her wide-eyed. "Of course! She's fine now, isn't she?!"

"Perfectly," Mrs Beakley smiled back at him.


	16. Meeting

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**52**

**Meeting**

* * *

Drake walked into the assembled meeting room and sat down next to Agent Hooter. "Any idea?"

"Completely blank slate." Hooter answered. "I don't recognise them."

Drake looked over to the front where two agents sat. The man was rather distractedly watching his phone. The woman turned her head and said something. They both looked like ducks, the woman had red hair up in a ponytail.  
The man frowned and looked up to argue quietly back. The argument seemed to taper off and the man briefly put his phone down on the table in front of him.

The room was filling up quite full.

Drake noticed the red head fixing her eyes on the door. Drake turned to see SplasherQuack step in and take a seat. When he looked back to the visitor, she was peering down at the phone. The man said something to her. She chuckled and stopped looking at the phone.

* * *

Director Grizlykoff left the computer station at the front of the room and addressed the assembly.

"Thank you for joining meeting outside office hours." He said to everyone, "Is very important have as many staff as possible here for discussion."

_That was what he'd said in the email._

"Recently we made contact with alternate universe S.H.U.S.H.. Have had discussion here. Sent Agents Rook and Lindle this morning, diplomacy team to have more discussion there. Agent Rook, report."

Rook stood up in front of the audience. "We have, with their permission, done a systems check and protocol review." He cleared his throat. "Their reporting and security systems are inferior to ours, their protocols match ours barring a few mid 20th century ones and their medical and research technology is superior. As for personnel, they are top heavy and we are bottom heavy."  
"Thank you, Agent Rook." Grizlykoff stated.

"I am sure most of you are aware St Canard is different to any other place that S.H.U.S.H. has office. Is difficult to find staff who understand as we do. Director Hooter from other universe appreciates this challenge we are facing. Has suggested trial for agent redeployment."

Grizlykoff waited for the buzz in the room to settle.

"I have authorised for trial." He stated, "Now need you to do part. Please study situation during trial, what you feel necessary. Then we will repeat meeting before end of three weeks to make decision. Agents." He addressed the two agents at the front and sat down.

The man stood up. "Agent M. Scientific Research and Interrogation." He sat back down again.  
The woman stood up. "Assistant Director Gosalyn Mallard. Diplomacy, Vampire Slayer."

She continued to stand amidst the buzzing.

"I'd first of all would like to say 'hello', and, throw in the fact that our universes have subtle differences bringing about the fact that I don't recognise some of you and none of you recognise me. But like that's going to stop any of us, so how about throwing me some questions?"

"Vampire Slayer is unusually specific."  
"No, it's a title and a qualification." Gosalyn answered, "file me under 'Elimination' if that helps. Next question?"

"Are you aware." SplasherQuack's voice called, "That there's a vampire sitting beside you?"  
"He was bitten on the job. Weren't you?"

Another buzz through the room.

"Is this intended..." Doctor Bellum started, "forgive me, but am I being replaced?"  
"No." Agent M answered, "And yes. You're a brilliant scientist, Doctor Bellum; we can make a great team."

"Next question?" Gosalyn asked.  
Hooter moved, "Who is replacing you over there?"  
"Agent Simon Mallard is stepping into the position. I'm confident in his abilities, though I'm sorry I can't see him take on a room full of cadets." Her beak quirked, "I'm sure he'll go easier on them than me. Next question."

Drake straightened. "Key psychological issues."  
"Trust you to ask that question, Darkwing." She frowned.

Agent M chuckled. "Actually, I'm pretty normal." He started, "Fell in love with _'this'_ girl and followed her into space and back. Our daughter was kidnapped by some vampires; I went and rescued her. Along the way I got an infecting bite." His gaze hardened, looking at Darkwing. "So in my life, everything always comes back down to my wife and kids. That being said, my job in S.H.U.S.H. is to support the other personnel and I enjoy doing it."

"And I'm school of hard knocks." Gosalyn continued. "Spent some time in an orphanage at the age of seven because of a criminal, so if you ever wanted to know why I'm like this, it's to kick criminals out of the truck of society. As far as I'm concerned, if you're not tough enough to deal with me, then how the heck are you tough enough to deal with the criminals out there on the street?"

She straightened, "Which brings us to a new calendar entry that'll be showing up in every field agent's schedule. It'll be called '_entrance examination_' so don't think it's a mistake and not show up. I'm in charge of personnel deployment. I need to know first hand what you can and can't do before I go sending you on a mission."

"Also." Agent M spoke up in a much more conversational term, "Once we've got the new health diagnostics system up and running, you'll all be getting an appointment for psychological review. That goes for all active personnel including cleaning staff."  
"No cobwebs, no skeletons, no ghosts." Gosalyn summarised their angle.

"So final question I'd like to ask you all; '_who wants the first exam_'?"  
"I do." Drake answered crisply. "If that's not a problem to anyone else."  
"Sure. I usually take that with a 'sir' or 'ma'am', but it's been a bit of a weird meeting for everyone so I'll excuse it. If that's all?" She looked around the room, then to Grizlykoff. "Sir?"

"Yes." Grizlykoff stood up. "S.H.U.S.H. agents, thank you again for attending. Will hold follow up meeting as stated earlier. Have good night." He picked up his phone.


	17. Gone Purple

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**53**

**Gone Purple**

* * *

Scrooge McDuck looked in frustration at his phone. Nearly eight! She had practically no time to read the thing now!

_"Don't you think someone dying is more important than your infernal meeting?!"_ He exclaimed to the phone receptionist, "I just need SplasherQuack; the rest of them can get on with their meeting. Please, I need you to pull her outta there now!"

"I'm sorry sir. It shouldn't be too long..."  
The line clicked over briefly.  
"Agent McDuck, what is matter?" Grizlykoff's voice answered.  
"Director." Scrooge gritted, "I need a vampire venom transfer; this patient's gonna die."  
"Not without verification." An unfamiliar male voice spoke away from the phone.  
"Don't give me verification! You want verification; come over here and watch her, she'll be going into convulsions within the hour!"

"Where are you?"  
"Duckburg Hospital."  
"Who's been to Duckburg?"  
"SplasherQuack." Scrooge immediately answered.  
"SplasherQuack."

There was some commotion on the other end.  
"You will have help presently, Agent." Grizlykoff answered, "They will see you in lobby."

Grizlykoff hung up and Scrooge stared at his phone. He hurried down the stairs to the hospital lobby.

* * *

Several more nerve-wracking moments passed by.

Two agents, a male in a grey suit and a black-haired woman in black grunge clothes came in the doors.

"You really didn't have to follow me, Agent."  
SplasherQuack shrugged, "I'm available for parties and funerals."  
"Agent McDuck? I'm Agent M." He stepped forwards, "You were saying there's been a hostile infection?"  
Scrooge felt a strange field effect coming from Agent M. "Aye... what are you doing?"  
Agent M was puzzled, "noth... _oh._ Sorry."  
Scrooge rubbed his head, "S'a bit better... y'still doing it."  
Agent M frowned. "You'll need a hazmat suit to stop that. Sorry."

Scrooge lowered his hand. "What _is it_ that you're doing?"  
"Pheromones." Agent M shrugged. "I can't suppress it completely. It's automatic."  
"Allure." SplasherQuack amended. "I wouldn't worry too much, McDuck. He's a nerd, not an axe murderer."  
Scrooge shook his head. "Aye, true, SplasherQuack; there are worse things." He resigned to lead them back up the stairs.

* * *

"It was a fledgling." Scrooge advised them, "The four of them held up the arcade. No telling why she was picked, or why she got an infecting bite. The other one we rescued got a hostile bite. Tried coming in to finish the job. We've got Gizmoduck out patrolling so he knows not to try again, at least."  
"What time last night?" Agent M asked.  
"About nine." Scrooge swallowed, "we don't have long."

They stepped in. Agent M centered himself in the room, regarding the woman in the bed from a distance.  
SplasherQuack went up to her side and leaned over her. "Oh, yeah, she's infected." She pulled away. "Yuck. You can't expect me to do this."

"I don't." Agent M cut him off. "I'm doing it."  
SplasherQuack turned to stare at Agent M. "You know you'll be dealing with miss trauma vamp the rest of your unlife?"  
"Well, whoever it is," Scrooge picked up the book from the side table. "How to do it's in here."  
"I know how to do it, sir." Agent M countered flatly, then he looked at the book. "Wait a second, who-?"

* * *

The window opened and a face appeared.

_"She's mine!"_

There was a blur of motion, Scrooge watched Agent M grab the other vampire and bite straight down on his neck.

Gizmoduck burst in the window and in a barest moment to take stock of the situation, a sudden dust cloud was in the room with them.

The woman in the bed shrieked. The room suddenly tinted in several shades of purple. Scrooge clenched the book.

**"Let me help you, Vanesia."**

SplasherQuack tugged on Scrooge's arm, pulling him back towards Gizmoduck.

"Wh-what is that?" Gizmoduck asked, "His electro-chemical bio-field just tripled in size."  
"Seriously?" SplasherQuack replied. "Did nerds take over the world while I was away?"

Scrooge tried to shake his head of the strangely comfortable feeling, "The room's gone purple; what's he doing?"  
"Sir." Gizmoduck said in a steady voice. A hand took his arm. "I think I should get you out of here."

* * *

Out in the corridor, Scrooge's head started to clear.

"I called them in to help." Scrooge explained to Gizmoduck, "But I had no idea I'd be coming up against that." He turned back. Through the doorway he saw Agent M sitting beside Vanesia. Agent M leaned forwards. There was a flash of white teeth before he lowered his head to the undamaged side of her neck.

She didn't so much as flinch.

Scrooge shuddered, "I-I have never wanted to be bitten before..."

Several moments passed. Agent M helped Vanesia to lie down. He stood up. Scrooge turned away from the door, tightening his grip on the book.

Agent M stepped out. "She's gone to coma again." He stated, "I've done my best to help Vanesia back into as neutral a mindset as possible and my venom's overwritten the brain-damaging effect left by the first vampire's venom. She'll go from normal duck to normal vampire." He gestured to the room. "I'll come back tomorrow night and start training her. With my training, she'll be as close to _'fine'_ as a vampire can possibly be..." He frowned, "I'm sorry, is there something wrong?"

"No..." Scrooge struggled, "You followed straight from the book." He tried to loosen his grip a little, "I cannae argue when you did it right; just turns out it was a wee bit much for me to handle."  
"What kind of vampire just gives a book like that away?"  
Scrooge shook his head and showed Agent M the blood pendant. "La Chupreveira had an ancestor who collected."

Agent M snorted, "Oh, **that kind of vampire.**" He shook his head.  
"He wasn'a vampire or he wouldn'a needed my help." Scrooge shook his head, "You had no problems dusting that other one right now."

Agent M straightened, "La Chupreveira's the kind of vampire you fight off with itching powder; of course he needed your help. I'm a Mallard vampire. **I _'am'_ the help.** It's literally-."

There was a screech in the room.

"Got him." SplasherQuack appeared at the door with a smile. "Two blood-locks down and that's a rap!"  
"Aye, thank ye..." Scrooge blinked and she'd vanished.

Agent M turned, "Agent McDuck, was there anything else I can help you with?"  
Scrooge shook his head, "I d... I cannae think o' anything right now. I, what you did in that room. Does it wear off?"

"In your case, yes." Agent M straightened, "I have schematics to build equipment that can help retro-detect contact time and intensity decay rates. I've literally only just got here today though so you'll have to take my word for it until I get around to building it."

Scrooge shook his head. "Are you feeding on life energy?"

He shook his head, "Mallard vampires prefer emotional energy." Agent M licked his beak. "My favourite meal is: 'did you have a good day?' With a side of vegetables." He stepped away, "Speaking of which; I left my wife at the office and three ten year olds in a house without a working TV. So I really have to go. Have a good night." He vanished.

* * *

Scrooge blinked, "Gizmoduck. Did the room go purple for you?"  
"No, sir."  
"Then you can see this guy for what he really is."  
"I'm not sure about that, but I have collected a sizeable amount of data tonight." Gizmoduck took his arm, "Will you be alright, sir?"

"Aye, I'll be fine, I'll cut some wolfsbane when I get home. If those two are dusted you can go back to patrolling the streets."  
"Yes sir."

* * *

Scrooge got to the car.

Dinted, marked with a cracked side window. Launchpad was putting a hub cap that had apparently fallen off into the back seat.

_"What happened, are you alright, Launchpad?"  
_"Oh, hey, sure, everything's fine, Mr McDee. Good to go?" He opened the passenger door.

Scrooge sat down with reservations.

Launchpad started the car and quietly started driving them home.

At this point, Scrooge realised the driver's side was missing the mirror. "Launchpad, the car smells like petrol. What happened to it?"  
"Oh, the car's fine, Mr McDee, that's just the chainsaw in the boot..." Launchpad explained, "Had to run to the gardening shop for a few things. Good job they were still open... and the fuel stop."

Scrooge shook his head, "just... get it fixed again..." he paused, "did you happen to get pruning shears while you were there?"  
"Sure thing." Launchpad answered cheerfully.


	18. Physics

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**54**

**Physics**

* * *

At the kitchen table, Gosalyn and Honker were studying the pages of Drake's Junior Woodchuck guidebook as they tried to copy the knots amidst a small mound of ribbons and sashes borrowed from his mother's sewing box.

"So, around-."

**Knock knock.**

Drake stopped, looking up from helping Honker with the slip knot.

* * *

Drake went and opened the door.

A thin, tall teenage girl, her red hair in a pony tail and a fringe. Thick black eyeliner around her eyes. Today, Catlyn was dressed in khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt with a rocket and stars printed on it. She had a long sleeve cotton shirt tied around her waist and was wearing a backpack.

From the other universe. Drake opened the door wider to let her in, "You've come a long way, Catlyn."  
"Yeah." She uttered moodily, stepping inside, "Tell me about it." She looked at him, "I was walking by and noticed you were living here. Or well, I assume you're living here by the fact you're here and there's nobody else really hanging around."

"My parents live here too, they just like going out a lot. Morgana's gardening."  
"I know..." Catlyn was tense, looking around the room.  
"Having another hangover?" Drake joked, "Have a look around."

Catlyn eased her stance and Drake moved in front of the stairs.

"The crest." She looked back at him, "The name on the gate and the wall outside."  
"Yeah." Drake was amazed, "You really don't recognise me at all?"

* * *

Drake walked back into the kitchen to get the juice from the fridge.

Catlyn stepped in after him, "Hi."  
"Hi." Gosalyn answered.

"You remind me a _'bit'_ of my granddad." Catlyn admitted as she sat down opposite the empty seat next to Gosalyn, "The way you're persnickety and trying to hide it."

_Persnickety?_

Drake put the juice down firmly on the sideboard. He turned and put his hands on the table at the empty space. "And you have problems." He pointed out, "It's the beginning of school holidays and you're still lugging around your school physics book." He pointed to her bag she'd put on the chair beside her.

"Honker does that." Gosalyn stated at his elbow.  
"Ye-es." Drake agreed, "But we all know _'why'_ Honker does it: because it's a comfort factor. Catlyn doesn't carry hers as a security blanket. No; she lugs that book around because she wants to feel miserable." He finished pointedly.

"No, I..." Catlyn stopped, puzzled.

* * *

Drake turned back and poured out the drinks for everyone. He put three glasses on the table for the kids and went out to give Morgana hers.

"Oh, thank you." Morgana happily took the drink.

Drake looked around the patch. The low ancient stone fence and the rotting gate framed a now half-cleared jungle. "Wow, those weeds don't stand a chance with you around."  
Morgana chuckled, "Perhaps I've gone a bit overboard since you left."  
"No, it looks great, sorry about-."

Morgana shook her head with a smile, "They are lovely children and you have an uncanny knack." She raised her spare hand, ripping another giant weed up out of the ground in the distance, "besides, this is a rather cathartic activity."

He kissed her and went back inside.

* * *

Drake picked up his glass from the sideboard and sipped, watching Catlyn teaching the others the ties.

He sat down beside Gosalyn, looking across at the teenager. "So, Catlyn."

She sat back in her chair, as though waiting for a lecture.  
"Why can't you 'get' physics?"  
She sighed huffily, "My dad's not my genetic father," she admitted in a distasteful tone.

"You have problems with your genetic father?"  
_"He's a protoduck."_ She name-called, staring moodily at her glass on the table.

With clenched teeth, Drake glanced at the other two nervously, "That's a bit harsh, Catlyn," he disapproved, "Nobody's perfect; everyone's good at something. You just have to investigate a bit more."  
She shook her head, "As a matter of fact I can't. He pushed me out of his flat and slammed the door in my face, calling me '_the devil's spawn_'. My grandfather's friend picked me up and we went bowling. Ever since then I've been bowling."

"I'm not saying it's your fault because it's definitely not okay," Drake frowned, "But do you have any idea what may have triggered him to go off like that?"

Catlyn raised her hand up, a ribbon rose in the air, forming into one of the knots from the open page. "My granddad taught me. What are you going to say? I stuffed up? I didn't _'parent'_ him enough? I was six! Not only was he supposed to be an adult but he's a vampire and it's a vampire discipline." She looked up at Drake gauging his reaction.

"If you can do that, Catlyn, there's no reason you can't do physics." Drake stood up, "Come on, everyone, it's getting boring in here. Let's help Catlyn with her physics problem."  
"Physics?" Gosalyn grumbled. "I'd rather learn about vampire disciplines; that sounds way cooler."  
"Oh, come on, Gosalyn, it'll be fun," Drake headed to the outer door. "This way, outside. Bring your books if you have them."

* * *

Drake led them to stand several metres to the side of the obstacle course.

"Alright, everyone knows what's in this thing: geometry." He gestured to the course. "Circles, rectangles, triangles and their prisms. But what happens if someone goes through the obstacle course?"  
"Physics," Honker answered.

"You two aren't quite ready to go through the whole thing, we'll work on it. Today, though, let's break down the physics angle."

_"That isn't physics!"_ Catlyn complained loudly, "Physics is a whole bunch of equations."

"Yeah," Drake shrugged, "if you've got a job, testing new cars or if you want to be a physics lecturer yourself or pass your exam or something. But life isn't exams, is it, Gosalyn?"  
"I keep telling my mum that."  
"So let's put down those fancy equations and look at _'real'_ physics. I'll run through the course, and you guys, I want you to call out any physics words you see happening."

* * *

_"Energy"_  
_"Acceleration"_  
_"Friction"  
"Gravity"_  
_"Inertia"_

Flushed happy, Drake finished the course and returned to them. "Great job, you two!" He congratulated Gosalyn and Honker. He glanced back up at Catlyn. She looked displaced and confounded.  
"How about you make some notes on this, Catlyn? Honker, Gosalyn, let's get set up for a physics game we can all play."

Drake grabbed spray cans from the garage and the cleaning closet. Varnish, de-greaser, car cleaners, whatever was the right sized can he handed it to Gosalyn and Honker as he went. Nine down, he took out the cooking spray from the kitchen to get the number of cans to ten.

The baseball Drake collected from the wooden sports box in the garage and handed it to Honker. Then he collected the outdoor folding table from behind the stack of picnic chairs.

With the kids help, he arranged the table with the cans like a fairground display.

* * *

"Okay," Drake stepped back to a good pitching distance with the others, "who wants to go first?"

Honker handed the ball to Gosalyn.

She pitched. Half the cans went scattering.  
"Wow, well done, Gosalyn!" Drake congratulated.  
"Ugh! The table's crooked," Gosalyn grumbled. She and Honker went to fetch the ball and reset the can arrangement.  
"Ah, excellent observation, Gosalyn." Drake congratulated her again. "The ground isn't even. An extra complication to the physics puzzle. Your turn, Honker."

Honker thought for a long moment. He threw the ball. He managed to knock some cans off as well.  
"Good shot, Honker." Drake congratulated.  
"I need more force." Honker lamented as they went picking up the scatter.  
"Another excellent physics observation. You kids are nailing this. Your turn, Catlyn."

Drake insisted, holding the ball out to her until she took it. "Apply your physics skills."

Resigned, Catlyn took the ball in her hand and considered the display. She pitched the ball. The entire lot of cans were wiped and the ball went bouncing into a gentle roll down the slope.

"Physics is an elemental interaction." She glanced at Drake and went to help Honker reset the cans. Gosalyn had raced off to collect the ball.

"Simple." Drake responded to her, watching. "You've been using it all along; you just haven't connected the dots because _you need a reason to feel bad_." He looked to Honker and Gosalyn. They were very intent to keep playing the game. He smiled, walked off to leave them to keep on with the pitching game for a while.

* * *

Catlyn sat down beside her bag and pulled out her notebook.

"Your mother didn't stay with him." Drake sat down beside her. "That says a lot."  
Catlyn shrugged, "my dad is pretty super."  
"Yeah, but..." Drake thought, "Have you asked her opinion?"  
"Not to memory." Catlyn considered, "Probably because _'my'_ opinion is too loud. If she's said anything, I wouldn't have heard her anyway. I have a big fiery rage inside me. Unrealistic condemnation. Resentment. The works."  
"Well, you're rational enough to say so." Drake said encouragingly.  
"It's a thing grandpa taught me. You sit in front of the mirror and try to see past your reflection." Catlyn looked at her notebook. "Grandpa says, so long as you can _'see',_ you can _'do'._" She sighed, "Do what though?"

"I dunno, that's a good question." He shrugged, "Have you thought about giving yourself a code name?"  
"Code name?"  
"Yeah, like '_Tornado Bowler_' or something." He smirked.  
Catlyn chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're not '_devil spawn_', Catlyn, that's just an insult. It doesn't mean anything more than to upset you. Yes, it was said by someone you thought you could trust, but you know better now. Don't let him get you down. He's clearly had a lot of trouble in his life; ten to one it's got nothing to do with you, much less genetics and it definitely has nothing to do with the person you _'want'_ to see when you're looking in that mirror. That person is all up to you." He paused. "That person you spend your whole life building yourself up to be."  
Catlyn smiled at him. "Thanks."

* * *

Drake stood up. "Hey, you two, it's getting on a bit."

"Aw." Gosalyn frowned.  
"Sorry, but I want to finish the rope lesson before taking you home."  
"Oh, we got those!" Gosalyn said brightly.  
"Yeah." Drake chuckled, "So let's go apply what you've learnt."

* * *

Drake led them all to the garage. He pulled down the tarp and brought out the tub of rope.

"Catlyn, you want to put that on my car?" He handed her the tarp. Then he opened the rope box and glanced for Gosalyn and Honker to look in. "So, the first thing you want to know about rope is that it's strong enough to do the job you want it to do." He showed them the various rope thicknesses, "Since we're _'in'_ the garage, rather than out in a gale-force wind, these ones will do; but say there was a big hole in the roof, then we'd use those others for the tarp." He handed them the thinner ropes, one each. "This is the best way to learn knots. Real life examples. Slipknots. Go."

Drake stepped up to Catlyn's side, watching Gosalyn and Honker tying down his car. "So who taught you ropes, Catlyn?"  
Catlyn puzzled, "Don't remember. Too young."  
Drake frowned. "Do you remember anything before you were six?"  
Catlyn frowned, "No... weird."  
"You've spent your whole life piling boxes up in front of the door to protect yourself." Drake reasoned.  
"Guess I have." Catlyn shrugged. "Bummer."  
Honker was basically done, so Drake circled around the car to check on Gosalyn. "You two are creaming this." He congratulated.  
Gosalyn beamed up at him.  
"Hands up, anyone who's going to forget how to do a slipknot now?"

"No, sir!" Honker said from the other side.

"Now, you guys know why we did slipknots?"  
"They're easy to undo." Gosalyn answered.  
"And yet the ropes are pretty secure." Drake tried each of their ropes to demonstrate. "Not going to budge. So one more fun thing to do: untie it."

* * *

After showing the kids how to wind the ropes back up, Drake led the three home.

After stopping at Avian Way, Catlyn led Drake to the far side of the suburb.

The sign out the front of the house said _'For Sale'._

Puzzled, Drake went to the door with Catlyn.

"Mu-um!" Catlyn called, "This is the guy I was talking about, you know the jewelry store?"  
Adult Gosalyn stepped out of the kitchen. Her hair was tied up and the air smelt like she was cooking spaghetti. "Oh, you!" She snorted in humour. "That's Drake Mallard, Catlyn."  
"Yeah, I... got it on the second round... Mum, I'm sorry." Catlyn hugged her.  
"Sweetie." Gosalyn hugged her back in confusion, "There's nothing wrong, everyone's entitled to be upset right now; we've moved house to an alternate dimension and they _still haven't invented flying cars_. Go say hello to your dad."

Catlyn went back outside.

* * *

Drake looked at Gosalyn, "You bought a house on a three week trial job opportunity?"

Gosalyn shook her head, stepping back into the kitchen. "The more I look the messier S.H.U.S.H. gets." Drake watched her tensely stir the sauce in the pot. She was also cooking a casserole.

"A rock of the stolen variety." She spun around angrily, _"What exactly kind of wimp are you?!"  
_Drake cringed. "It was a draft title. It was just supposed to be a joke to cheer myself up."  
"Yeah, a real big joke."  
"Off the record, I'd just like to say she was not very nice to me. I didn't even get a briefing."

Gosalyn folded her arms. "You should've just gone back to Grizlykoff, not '_wing it_'. Would've stopped the situation escalating. Report the problem when you see it." She finished in a severe tone.  
Drake frowned, "Yeah. A couple things stopped me doing that."  
"Yeah? And which of them relates to how messed up **'you'** are?!"

Drake straightened.

"You asked me, right in front of everyone, I'd say at this point you owe me... oh, let's see about... _two dozen favours!_"  
"I've spent my entire life dealing with bullies, I can handle myself," Drake asserted.  
"So why didn't you this time?"  
"Because it was my first opportunity to work on a real case. I wanted to do some actual work for a change! As for going back to Grizlykoff, I'm tired of hearing my own voice complaining and he's extremely busy anyway. At some point in your life, you have to learn that there are some problems you're just not qualified to fix the way you'd like to have them fixed. I'm not the Assistant Director and at that time, nobody was. All this stuff is trivial when it comes to F.O.W.L.. I made a call to get over it and move on."

Gosalyn gazed back at him. After a moment she lightly shook her head, "I dunno, you're somewhere between Honker and dad."  
Drake shrugged, raising an eyebrow, "Honker reminds me a lot of myself at his age."  
"At his age? You technically are his age."  
"Oh." Drake realised, "This is getting confusing."  
Gosalyn chuckled.

"You ever talk to Catlyn, about her genetic father?"  
**"Whoa, hold on there."** Gosalyn scowled.  
"Do you? When was the last time?"  
"That's my daughter you're talking about."  
"She's also his daughter."  
**"No, she's not!"** Gosalyn snapped, "and none of this is your business." Her eyes moved from him to the door.  
Drake turned to see Catlyn standing there.

Catlyn gazed at her mother. "Why was I seeing him?"  
"Because..." Gosalyn sighed, "you should know all the people in your life no matter how traumatized they are. You'll meet people like him again and again as an adult. People like him are just an unfortunate part of life and if you need to go bowling to deal with them, then I am genuinely 100% all for it. Your Uncle Steelbeak isn't here, but I'm sure if you ask nicely, Drake will take you."

Gosalyn gave Drake a mischievous smile, "He owes me a favour anyway."


	19. Interlude

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**55**

**Interlude**

* * *

Another night was coming. Scrooge McDuck really wished it wouldn't.

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera in his plain shirt and purple tie examined the town's map projected onto the whiteboard. Red Xs were marked, black circles. A vampire's Eat Street map entitled _'Duckburg'._

"I can't think of anything else." Mrs Beakley finished her briefing, black marker in hand. "Mr McDuck?"  
Scrooge frowned, "Your turn, Fenton. When you scanned that vampire disappearing. How'd he do it?"

Fenton turned to the brainstorming board with the post it notes and started drawing new lines with the green marker. At the far end of the green lines he wrote on a fresh post it note: _Wereplant._

_"Wereplant?!"_ Mrs Beakley exclaimed.

Scrooge started in shock. _"Launchpad fended them off last night!"_  
"Is he alright?" Mrs Beakley asked.  
"Ach, he's fine; made not a single to do about it!"  
"That is Launchpad." Mrs Beakley considered calmly.  
He cringed. "So that's why the car was in such a state when I came back."  
"I'm sorry." Fenton frowned, "The car park is on the other side of the building from the hospital room."

Mrs Beakley redirected. "The question is; if we can dust them off when they're in that plant state."  
"No," Scrooge answered, "Not if they're anywhere near it; wood is wood, cut off their head they grow a new one, and they're green wood so they don't even kindle easy." He rubbed his head, "You're better coming at the problem with hedge clippers like Launchpad did."

"Mr McDuck." Fenton hesitated, "Is there a book on wereplants?"  
"Aye." Scrooge promptly pulled the book from the shelf and handed Fenton the pendant.

"Earth series?" Fenton read the title then looked at the pendant. "What is this liquid in the crystal?"  
"Vampire blood." Mrs Beakley answered. "Books on vampires, by vampires, for vampires."  
Fenton stared in shock at the book in his hands. "If they get their hands on these...!"  
Scrooge shook his head. "They're top o' their game already, lad. Every other book in here is someone else's game. They're no' gonna start from scratch now."

"We'll let you alone to read that." Scrooge left the room with Mrs Beakley and shut the door.

* * *

Scrooge turned to Mrs Beakley in the corridor.

"That S.H.U.S.H. agent from last night is gonna come back to the hospital... I need to ask him what he's up to so we know if we have to look out for 'em." He frowned. "He might be kind enough to take her back to St Canard and give us a clear field."  
"Would you rather I ask?" Mrs Beakley offered.

Scrooge frowned. "If you go in there to meet him, you'll need to be smelling of wolfsbane too."  
"Oh, I was wondering what that was. I thought it was a new cologne."  
"Aye," he grunted. "Positively charming."  
"Isn't wolfsbane to do with werewolves, sir?"  
"Aye, think how confused he'll be."  
Mrs Beakley nodded, "It certainly confuses me. Are you suggesting he can turn into a werewolf?"  
Scrooge closed his eyes. "He's a people person; that makes him a pack animal. There's a great beast inside him and I doona want to meet it."  
"Perhaps we should switch places," Mrs Beakley offered, "I can appeal better to his agent side."

Scrooge gazed at her, wondering how honestly well she could face Agent M alone.

**"...What?" **She asked in a deepening temper.  
"Erm, perhaps we should go together, lass," Scrooge hesitated, "it's only for a short visit."  
"You don't trust me?"  
_"I barely trust me'self!"_ He retorted. His voice echoed along the corridor.

"So that's it!"  
Scrooge collected himself, "that's the truth of the matter, aye."  
"Then I really had better come with you."  
"Aye," he agreed immediately, "I'll be very glad for the company. I made an extra satchel of wolfsbane for you last night. I just need to fetch it from the drawer."

Her expression softened. "And I had best rescue the kitchen from Duckworth." Mrs Beakley checked her watch. "Dinner should be about twenty minutes away. Do bring Mr Crackshell back with you."  
"Aye, an' I'll see what else I can do to help him in the meantime."

* * *

Scrooge opened the door and went back into the study room.

"Oh, sorry sir." Fenton's face went red, "I was entirely going to put them away in just a jiffy."  
Scrooge looked in surprise at the small stack of books on the table, red, blue, yellow. "It's fine, Fenton... Are you looking for something specific... I can help with?" Scrooge went to the desk and got the satchel from the drawer.

"There wasn't anything really useful in the Earth books." Fenton answered, "Short of the point about force growth and energy balancing-."  
"You're a very fast reader."  
Fenton held up the pendant. "This thing can probably do more than just help read books." He said as way of explanation. "The main motive behind their attacks is to sustain their force growth activities. But I still don't know why they're doing that. Why not let them grow naturally? What do they hope to achieve with all this?"

Scrooge sighed, regretfully. "Why does Glomgold waste money on sharks rather than reinvest it? You're delving into the depths of madness, Fenton. For that, you're gonna be wanting the black books."

"If one gathers anything from classic cross-cultural symbolism," Fenton gazed back to the cupboard. "The black books would denote the most powerful of the five disciplines. Additionally, there's five times as many black books as there are other colours."  
"Aye. Because black is every colour and no colour. The same colour of the intangible: heart, mind and spirit. Also white gives some vampires a nasty headache so they'd never use it for their book covers."

Fenton went to the cupboard and pulled out a black book. He flicked, skimming through.

Meanwhile, Scrooge busied himself, returning the other books to their colour coded spots.

* * *

Fenton paused. "He's always going to get away if you take the wrong attitude."

"Pardon?" Scrooge blinked.  
"Something Darkwing said. About losing. We've been losing so many nights..." Fenton shook his head. "I don't know, it just makes me remember that." He gestured to the book in his hands, "Psychology."  
Scrooge shrugged. "Aye, an emotional vampire's dinner: 'Did you have a good day?'," he repeated Agent M's words from yesterday.  
"How does Agent M sustain himself like that?" Fenton asked him.  
"He reads our auras like he can hear our hearts beat. Then he tunes himself in to us. From there he can passively soak up the excess..." He frowned, "or get inside your head and start messing with your senses to make you give off that excess. I cannae forget the world turning purple like that."

Fenton shook his head and looked back down at the book, "You were caught in his field effect. With that sort of ability, I expect he's very good at vanishing into a crowd. I see why you were so concerned last night. A vampire like him would be the perfect mimic. Even pass themselves off as a S.H.U.S.H. agent."

"Aye..." Scrooge hesitated. "Come down for dinner, lad, we all need to be in a fair fighting mood before nightfall."

* * *

It wasn't long after dinner. Launchpad had driven Mrs Beakley and Scrooge over to the hospital.

"Where will they stop?" Mrs Beakley asked as they waited upstairs. "Is there a stop on them?"  
Scrooge shook his head, "They're obsessed with growing plants. That takes energy."  
Mrs Beakley sighed. "Plants feeding on ducks."

* * *

Scrooge turned to see Agent M stepping up the stairs. "Agent M, my partner Agent 22."

"How do you do?" Mrs Beakley stated.  
Agent M looked at them with an odd expression, "Um, hi... is there something I can help you with?"  
"Very sorry." Scrooge apologised, "As it turns out, I did have a few questions to ask you."  
"Oh." Agent M eased himself, "Sure."

"Yes," Mrs Beakley began, "primarily _'where'_ will you be carrying on with the matter?"  
Agent M passed them to stand between them and the door. "You mean the training. She's been pulled out of the ecosystem. Audubon Reserve is the best place to get her back into it again."  
"Speaking of ecosystems." Mrs Beakley mused, "What do you know of _'wereplants'?"  
_"They can't swim and they can't fly," Agent M answered, "but give them an empty patch of dirt and watch them do wonders."

Scrooge paused, "You don't need to blend in with us, we appreciate you being yourself."  
Agent M sighed. "Communicating isn't about what I know, it's about giving what you need to know... or less productively what you _'want'_ to know."  
"What about self-expression?" Scrooge gestured to Agent M, "How do you _'feel'_? Life isn't always about other people."

Agent M gazed at him. "Um..." He stopped. "I..." He stopped again. "I like baseball... I... I like..." He stopped. "The entire universe can be expressed in terms of scientific principles. From a single atom to an entire galaxy. From a single celled organism to an entire planet's ecosystem. Life is a clock, and life is a roller coaster. Life is spontaneous. Life, the universe and everything." He breathed. "You need to go. She's going to wake up soon and it'll be a lot easier for her to just have my heartbeats to focus on."

Scrooge nodded. "Thank you for your help."  
"That's what I'm here for." Agent M answered and closed the door between them.

* * *

Scrooge turned for the staircase.

"So, back to patrolling?" Mrs Beakley fell in step beside him.  
"Aye." He agreed.  
"Grover's field?"  
"Let's start with the vacant lot on Penny Lane."


	20. Bowling Part 1

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**56**

**Bowling Part 1**

* * *

During dinner, with the help of his parents and Morgana, Drake formulated a plan for his bowling night with '_the teenager_'; the new Assistant Director's eldest daughter, Catlyn Mallard.

Dressed in his purple Darkwing costume, Drake loaded Trouble up with a sizeable contingent of equipment and drove his motorbike over to the far side of the suburb. He pulled to the curb in front of the _For Sale_ sign.

Catlyn stepped up to the bike, dressed in black, leather jacket, boots and black jeans. Her steps were slightly hesitant. There was a stricken expression on her face. Apparently the motorbike was an unexpected twist to someone's plot.  
Drake handed her the spare helmet with a smile. "Let's go bowl some alleys."

* * *

Downtown, Drake swung Trouble to the curb and got off, grabbed out his bow and quiver set from the storage box.

Catlyn watched him. "Arrows are my mum's thing."  
Drake raised an eyebrow, "And who taught her the arrows?"  
"Well..."  
He fired the grapple arrow up to the roof.

* * *

Catlyn shadowed up beside him. "You are so much cooler than Uncle Steelbeak."

Drake chuckled and stepped to the edge of the roof, eyeing the new scene below. All was quiet... for the moment.  
"You're not even pretending. Mum completely wigged hearing that motorbike. You should've seen her face."  
"Oh, please." Drake chuckled again. "You're _'her'_ daughter and she sent you out with _'me'?_ What's _'bowling'_ code for? '_Pony ride_'?"  
"Ech, I hate that show." Catlyn made a disgusted sound. "Whoever heard of a horse that _'sparkled'?"_

Drake knelt down, carefully watching the street below. "What's your preferred range skill?"  
"Spontaneous combustion."  
"Gee, and you seem so level-headed."  
Catlyn snorted. "Fu-un-ny."

"What's your favourite animorph?"  
"Is that a trick question?" Catlyn chuckled, "It's a dragon, obviously."  
"Wow." Drake blinked. "I didn't know that was an actual thing."  
"What, dragons?"  
"That vamps could turn into... Okay, now saying that out loud it sounds completely obvious. But it's not in any of the old S.H.U.S.H. files."

Catlyn snorted, "Mum was telling us about _'those'."_

"She couldn't have read them in too much detail yet." Drake pulled an arrow from the quiver and drew the string back, watching his target moving towards theirs. He let the arrow fly.

A cloud of dust settled on the street. Nobody noticed any more than they had the vampire on the street with them.

"Whoa..." Catlyn exclaimed quietly. "Hardcore."  
"Welcome to Eat Street number one," Drake said darkly. "Next one's yours."  
"I prefer skirmishes, actually." Catlyn watched the street below them.  
Drake raised an eyebrow at her. "Never get into a fight unless you have to."

There was a puff of smoke on the street.

"I'm-done. Can-we-go-fight-zombies?" Catlyn said in a hurried voice.  
Drake tucked his bow away. "Well, let's get back to Trouble then-."

The world blurred.

* * *

Drake felt dizzy for a moment.

"Oh, sorry!"  
"I'm-f-fine..." Drake steadied himself and focused to clear his mind. He put his helmet on and sat down on the seat. He put his hands on the grips. "How about some zombies, Trouble?"  
Trouble's screen flickered, searching S.H.U.S.H.'s active case register as Catlyn sat down behind Drake.  
"West Side Cemetery." Trouble answered.

* * *

Drake parked the bike by the back wall of West Side Cemetery. "Thanks, Trouble." He gestured to the graveyard behind the six foot brick wall. "Zombies, Catlyn? You look puzzled."  
"Oh, it's just... Mum's usually the one hopping graveyards. I usually deal with other sorts..."

"You mean revenants." Drake pulled open Trouble's cowl and removed the two swords. "Okay, so you've got a choice: katana or cutlass?"  
"Neat-o!" Catlyn exclaimed, _"I have no idea!" _She said in excitement.

Drake chuckled as she tried the swing on each of them.

"The cutlass looks really old."  
"It was Liam Mallard's sword, made in 1681," He accented, _"a'fore he set sail to later become '**The Dark Doubloon**'; scourge of the seven seas."  
_"Better not give me any relics." She handed it to him. "Oh, what about the katana? Does it have a huge story attached to it?"  
"Dad gave it to me when I was twelve for doing really well in Shinqua training."  
Catlyn pursed her beak, "Is everything personal with you?"  
Drake chuckled, "Take the katana. You're fine."

"So what's the plan?"  
"Every zombie horde in St Canard has a Necromancer of some description at the centre of them." He shouldered the quiver and hooked the bow. Then he tossed the spare grapple over the top of the wall.  
"No gas gun at all tonight?"  
"No. That thing's past its '_best before_' date."

* * *

He got to the top of the wall. "Catlyn?"

She jumped up beside him.  
"Take a moment to appreciate exactly what we're looking at here." He said, coiling the rope back up and tucking it behind him.  
"You mean the zombies turning towards us?"  
"Them, the gravestones, and our target," Drake pointed at the middle mausoleum. "We're heading for that mausoleum." He jumped down.  
"Wh- there's three."

"The middle one." Drake dodged the gravestone and sliced the first zombie shambling towards him.

Slice, slice, swipe, slash. Kick, somersault, slice, swipe.

Drake got around to the front of the small building and to the door. He about faced. Catlyn was a flurry with the katana. She looked like she was enjoying herself and she'd definitely gotten the hang of the katana.

"Cover me," Drake said and sheathed the cutlass. He got out a bobby-pin and picked the lock. The door swung open and he drew out the cutlass again. "Catlyn."  
Catlyn jumped in after him.  
Drake locked the door after her.

"Hoo, boy fun-o-rama."  
Drake chuckled and studied the plates.  
"Please tell me you were right about this being the-."  
Drake found the freshly fingerprinted plate labelled _'entrance'_ and pressed it.

The inner door opened and they stepped though, down the spiral stone staircase.

* * *

At the base of the stairs was the entrance to the West Side Crypt. From here on were the crypt rooms. Each room was three metres wide by four metres long with two candle sconces on either side of the doorway. The walls of each room were lined with row upon row of remembrance plates. Some plates had fallen leaving vacant holes in the walls.

A new group of zombies headed towards them.

* * *

Slice, splice, slash, kick, somersault, swipe.

Drake looked up from the last zombie to see several zombies fall away from Catlyn in the next room.  
"Watching you and I have this strange urge to sing a sea shanty," she commented with a smirk.  
Drake chuckled, joining her in the next room. _"Ya-harrr,"_ he accented as they continued their journey, _"Sailor of the seven seas, captain of crew, pirate of pirates,"_ he continued to accent as they turned the corner and stepped over a stray upturned chainsaw in the doorway, _"the dreaded Dark Doubloon; at yer service, miss."_

There was a dark groan overhead. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Drake looked up at the rope tied to the candle sconce and hooked over the electric light fixture in the roof, "hello to you too, Negaduck."  
Negaduck let out another pained groan.  
"Why don't you get yourself down?" Drake frowned up at him.  
"Yeah, I would, if you gave me a minute."

A minute? Drake hadn't heard the chainsaw going. He stepped back to check it. The chainsaw's motor was stone cold. He looked back up to Negaduck. "Um, how long have you been up there again?"  
"I dunno, what are _'you'_ doing following me in here?"  
"We got bored doing other stuff..." Drake hesitated, "You had plenty of time to get rid of these zombies before we arrived-."  
Negaduck groaned.

_"Geez!"_ Negaduck jolted, "where'd you come from?"

Drake felt a rising alarm and sheathed his cutlass, heading to the centre of the crypt room, "Catlyn, cut him down."

* * *

Drake caught Negaduck and put him on the ground. He started searching, "I can't see any bites..."

Negaduck forcefully pushed him away. "Urgh! Get off me." He grumbled in revulsion as though Drake were a snail, "What are you doing here anyway?"  
"Catlyn," Drake stood up to guard their position, "can _'you'_ see what's happened to him for me, please?"

There was silence behind him for a moment.

"Darkwing, that's a _'vampire'_ bite." Catlyn answered.

"Seriously? The whole point of coming down here was to get away from those guys." Drake complained, slicing down the stray zombie that made an appearance at the next doorway. "Here we are in this lovely zombie infested crypt and what do we get to deal with? More vampires." He worked to make light in the face of the seriousness, "Couldn't it have been some _pillaging pirates_? What about some _murderous mermaids_?"  
Catlyn giggled. "Or some rampaging rabbits?"

"Who are you?" Negaduck asked in confusion.  
"You've been mentally drained, Negaduck," Catlyn explained, "That's why you're not remembering anything."

Drake took a steadying breath. This was what that vampire had left of the great Jim Starling. Not enough brain power left to untie himself from a simple snare trap. He stepped towards Negaduck. "Mr Starling; where is the vampire that bit you?"

Negaduck turned and led their continuing journey through the catacombs.

* * *

More zombies appeared, Drake and Catlyn cut and sliced through them as Negaduck walked. The pre-lit candle trail continued.

The next thing Drake realised was a black haired, black clothed woman in the room with them. She knocked the cutlass from his hand.  
"SplasherQuack!" Drake exclaimed, dodging the fateful grab, "You're the one who sucked his brains out?!"

Before Drake could get back to the cutlass, he heard a voice from the next candle-lit room.  
"Another vampire?" The necromancer asked in delight.

Drake switched targets and jumped in front of Catlyn.

A blast of green light hit him, sending him back into Catlyn's arms. The katana clattered to the floor.


	21. Bowling Part 2

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**57**

**Bowling Part 2**

* * *

"Darkwing!" Catlyn exclaimed.

Drake grabbed the katana Catlyn had dropped and stood up.  
"Well, that was... different." The Necromancer commented abstractly.

Somersault, slice, slice, slice, somersault.

Drake picked up his cutlass from the floor of the crypt as there was a clatter and heavy tumbling sound behind him. He sheathed the cutlass and with the tip of his katana he picked up the amulet by the gold chain. He pocketed it in his utility belt. For a moment, SplasherQuack was busy eating.

* * *

Drake turned away back to Catlyn. Negaduck was standing offside, staring, blinking blankly at him.

_"H-how-he hit you! Square!"_ Catlyn exclaimed. _"You should've been zombified!"_

Drake fingered the necklace around his neck and pulled out the inset coin. "This is the doubloon the king gave to Liam Mallard for his services protecting the royal ship from pirates." He explained to her, stepping forwards. "The '_dark doubloon_' holds an impression of his-."

Tripped, tumbled, jumped up and somersaulted back.

Drake slammed his hands down between Negaduck's shoulder blades, sending him heavily to the floor in front of Catlyn.

Drake grabbed out his bow and twisted, letting the arrow fly at SplasherQuack.

She vanished and the arrow rebounded on the tiled floor.

Drake spun sideways, hooked the bow and swiped with the katana at the location she would reappear. The blade passed through air. He dodged again, taking another swipe at her next location she should appear. More air.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding." SplasherQuack's voice came from above.

Drake slammed his back against the plate littered wall. **"Oh, I think you made it pretty clear what you are, vampire,"** he growled, keeping an eye on the 180 degrees of space around him.

_"You did that on purpose!"_ SplasherQuack complained.  
Negaduck started laughing.  
_"I can't take you anywhere!"_

Confused, Drake edged along the wall back to Catlyn's side at the doorway. "Catlyn, I thought you said she'd drained him."  
"The Necromancer drained her. They had one working brain between them but they're fine now."  
"All for one or none at all." Negaduck folded his arms, glaring at Drake and then less hotly at Catlyn. "Whose kid is this?"

"-." Drake stopped himself, No, _'mine'_ was not the correct answer, that was inappropriately possessive...

"She's from the nest of that vampire I met last night." SplasherQuack answered, appearing behind Negaduck.  
"The geek?"  
Catlyn stiffened. "St Canard is Mallard territory now, SplasherQuack."

Negaduck snorted, "Love how she went over the top of my head to say that." He locked eyes with Drake. "Nice antique. I should dig up the body so you can have a full set."  
Drake blinked at that notion, "Good luck with that."

"Can we go now?" Catlyn complained. "This party is wa-ay dead."  
"Great idea." Drake agreed.

* * *

They appeared beside the bike in a blur.

"I'm sorry that didn't finish off like I expected," Drake apologised.  
"It's my fault; I didn't explain the whole '_what was wrong with him_' thing properly."  
"Regardless, I still shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion." Drake frowned. "Also, I'm the adult. It's entirely my stuff up no matter what else you want to say about it."

Catlyn gazed at him tentatively. "Well, uh, in that case... nice moves."  
"And you're very good with the katana." He put the swords away along with the arrow set.

* * *

Drake drove Catlyn home.

Drake pulled off his helmet, "Catlyn."  
She looked up at him from storing her helmet with the arrow set.  
Drake sighed, "We'd make a great team, I just have a little hitch I need to work through first."

"Like how you jumped to the conclusion that the vampire was automatically the worst person in the room, and how a Necromancer was just a distraction from that?"

Yeah, it was a long drive from West Side to Mireham up in north side.

Drake nodded. "It seriously only just happened to me. I've still got another day of recuperation leave."  
"And you took me bowling?" Catlyn was incredulous, "you could've just said '_another time_', you know."  
"And miss a chance to spend time with you?" Drake chuckled and put his helmet back on. "Anytime you need help, Catlyn, you know where to find me."

Catlyn smiled back at him. "Thanks."

* * *

Drake parked the bike in the garage and went straight out through the disused back door to the outside. His eyes were fully adjusted to the dark as he made his way down the path to the gate marked '_Private Property, Keep Away_'. Drake vaulted over the gate and walked on in through the overgrown shrubbery, along the uneven root grown path.

Hidden deep in the overgrowth was the mausoleum.

He drew his hand behind him and pulled the Necromancers green and gold amulet from his utility belt. It glowed brightly as he set to count.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

He dropped the amulet and sat back on the overgrown grass.

Eighteen generations were buried here.

* * *

There was the sound of footfalls. The gate unlocked. A glow of light coming towards him.

Drake gazed up at his father.

Harold's face was lit glowing golden orange in the light of the lantern.

"It's a very strange time of night to come down here, son."  
"I had a burning question thanks to my doppelganger," Drake shrugged.  
"Him."

Harold grunted and picked up the amulet. "What's this?"  
"It's a necromancer's amulet. In the wrong hands they could raise a zombie army with it. Maybe I've just had a rough couple of weeks and now I've started imagining things."  
"Sorry, you really have to pull me onto the page with you, Drake. Imagining what?"  
"I was trying to do a body count."  
His father looked at the amulet in his hand, then turned to the mausoleum. "Wait here."  
"Yes sir." Drake answered.

His father unlocked the door and went inside.

Drake blinked through the returned darkness of night. He turned his eyes to the sky.

Five hundred years worth of ancestors. Eighteen generations of Mallards were down there.

* * *

Time felt very slow.

_I am air. I am rock. I am water. I am fire. I am Darkwing Duck._

Eventually Drake heard the faint sounds of his father coming back up the stairs from the crypt. His father stepped out and locked the door of the mausoleum behind him.

Harold's face was stricken in the lantern light. "...This thing is dangerous." He at last found his words, clenching the amulet in his fist. "I'd better keep it on me until I can make a box strong enough to hold it."

Drake blinked, "I was going to do that."  
Harold shook his head. "You've had enough stress with all this business."  
Drake stood up, "Thanks, dad."

They headed back to the manor.

* * *

Harold stopped several metres off from the back door to the garage.

Drake turned back to him.

Harold had a clouded expression, staring at the house. "When the doctor diagnoses you dead, then whoever knows how long it takes, your body turns to dust. It's only time playing the variable with us."

Drake held out his hand, offering once again to take the amulet, "I'm the one who brought it in."  
Harold closed his eyes and shook his head. "Better you think on anything else you want cast tomorrow." He pocketed the amulet.

"That'd be great!" Drake remembered in momentary excitement. "There're fatigued elements in the gas gun."  
"Whoa." His dad stopped him, "Already?"  
"Take a look." Drake led him back the last steps into the garage and took the gas gun from his lock box. "Here, feel that release."

Harold triggered the unloaded mechanism. He looked up at Drake with a horrified expression. _"That woman wants you dead!"_ He got the baseball from the sports box and loaded it into the end. Harold aimed the gas gun at the far wall near his car. "No soldier goes out on field with-."

There was a snap inside the gas gun. Drake flinched. The ball stayed put.

Harold stared at the broken thing in his hand. "You've been light feathering this thing."  
"Yes sir." Drake answered smartly; "It's a great looking prop."  
Harold looked down at the gas gun and swore. "I've broken it."  
"It's probably just one of the pins..." Drake took the gas gun and went to the workbench. His dad watched as Drake took the mini screwdriver and pulled apart the gas gun.

"I didn't think it'd be too bad." Drake eyed the broken plastic, "clean break. I just have to be careful putting it into the mold."  
"Better glue it first." Harold took out the glue from the toolbox. "Make sure it's exactly the way you need it to be."  
"Thanks."

Harold took a step away. "You know it just amazes me how much you're like your mum." His dad said in a warm tone, getting out the casting box. "I've always been a bit of a hot head."

Drake froze, staring at the black plastic he'd just glued together.

_Hot head_  
_Loner_  
_Lurker_  
_Busy Signal_

"Anything else for casting?" His father prompted.  
"Definitely need more arrowheads," Drake answered. "You always seem so level-headed."

His dad put his hand on his shoulder, "it's just discipline. And you and your mum, always pulling me back to the centre."  
"Maybe that's all that's needed," Drake smiled.

* * *

"So." His dad finished laying out the moulds for tomorrow and they started back into the house, "Apart from all that with the..."  
"Yep."  
"How was _'bowling'?"_

"I'm impressed, honestly," Drake said, heading to the kitchen. "She's a good kid. She doesn't like ranged. Never picked up a sword before." He turned on the kettle.  
"How on earth do they fight over there?" Harold asked, pulling out cups for them.

"Well, Justin does ranged magic, Ace is his front-line. Simon's gone through to Assistant Director, so he's clearly packing something legitimate. Gosalyn apparently uses the bow. Not this teenager though." Drake set to making the tea, "She uses controlled fire."

His dad was silent.

"She didn't mind patrolling with me, but I got a real anti-authoritarian vibe from her." Drake shook his head.  
"But you didn't really stand your ground."  
Drake frowned. "No, sir. The situation didn't call for it. I get the feeling if we couldn't agree she'd down tools or take a walk."

Harold folded his arms, leaning back against the sideboard in thought.  
"Dad?"  
"Oh, that look he gave me." Drake's father shook his head. "It was just like that."  
Drake looked to the kettle as it finished. "I guess they're close then."  
His father sighed, "It's a good reason for her to be upset." He went and got the milk.  
"I told her," Drake sighed, "If she ever needs me I'm here for her."  
"That's it then." His dad shrugged. "Anything else happen tonight?"

"Well, in other news, Negaduck threatened to dig up Liam Mallard."

They started laughing.


	22. Trap Door

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**58**

**Trap Door**

* * *

It was after lunch that Gosalyn and Honker came around again. School holidays were great.

Drake took the gymnastic mats from the garage and brought them outside. He started teaching them how to do basic rolls. After a while, Honker was getting a bit frustrated.

"You can totally do it, Honker," Catlyn spoke up from beside the house, "you just need to trust yourself."  
Drake turned to her, "Hi there," he smiled at her, "so I didn't scare you off last night then."  
Catlyn chuckled and stepped forward. "Sorry for not knocking. I didn't want to interrupt your mum from whatever she's doing."  
"Painting," Drake answered.

Honker frowned, "why is gymnastics so hard?"  
"Gym?" Catlyn queried. "I thought it was..."  
"I'm teaching them how to fall," Drake explained, "Want to help?"  
"You mean like what happened last night?" She stepped up. "Right, so, you were walking past the guy, and he hooked your leg as you stepped."  
Drake turned the forward pitch into a roll and jumped up. He turned to see the kids staring up at him.

"Wow, that's mean." Honker breathed.  
Gosalyn frowned, _"Who did that to you?!"_ She asked tempestuously.  
Drake shook his head with a smile, "Just some guy I wasn't expecting to do that. But that's the basic point, you never know when you're going to fall."  
Catlyn chuckled, _"He_ sure didn't. You slammed him down so hard!"  
Drake frowned, "Yeah, he really needs to learn not to pull that stuff with me. Try again, Honker, drop your shoulder."

"Uff." Honker tried to roll and complained.  
Catlyn knelt down, "There's a whole bone and muscle thing going on here. When you roll..." She demonstrated with her fingers, "You're turning your bones away from the impact point. Bones on the inside. Tuck in, not poke out."

"Come on, kids, let's re-hydrate." Drake led them back into the kitchen.

* * *

They all sat down at the table.

"So..." Catlyn said, toying with her glass of water, "You didn't finish explaining how that old coin one-upped that magic amulet thing."  
"Oh. I'll just get it." Drake went to fetch the necklace for Catlyn. The three kids followed him to the garage.

* * *

"Ah, heh..." He made to close the lid of his lock box but Gosalyn was quicker.

"Keen gear!" She exclaimed, grabbing out the bow and quiver set. "Wow."  
"Ye-ep." Catlyn stated from behind.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Gosalyn frowned up at Catlyn, "How can you be so gloomy all the time? Look at all this cool stuff!" She handed Catlyn the arrow set and turned back to the box.

"What are these?" Honker pointed to the row of four pointed discs hooked under the leather straps.  
"Those are shuriken." Drake answered, "You fling them kind of like darts or a boomerang."  
"Neat-o!" Gosalyn pulled at the cutlass hooked to the lid.

"Oh, careful." Drake rescued it and handed it to her carefully. "Sheaths aren't just made for storing swords, they're also made for drawing them." He swapped the necklace for the arrow set with Catlyn. "The Dark Doubloon has the psychic imprint of my ancestor Liam Mallard. It's basically a back up psyche."  
"Whoa," Catlyn murmured.  
Drake turned back, glancing at Honker examining his shuko spikes and then watched Gosalyn testing the swing on the cutlass. "The basic principle on any handheld weapon," Drake said to her, "Is that it's an extension of your arm."  
"Can you teach me?" Gosalyn handed the sword back to him.  
"You're a self-propelled missile, Gosalyn," he chuckled, "if I don't teach you, how else are you going to learn the discipline that goes with it?"

"This place has to have lots of old stuff like the coin," Honker commented.  
"Like magic and stuff?" Gosalyn asked excitedly.  
"Uh, not _'too'_ much, as far as twenty generations including myself is concerned." Drake looked to Catlyn, clutching the necklace, "Are you alright there, Catlyn?"  
"Huh? Oh. Sorry, this thing's pretty deep."  
"Why don't you hold onto it for a bit?"  
Catlyn blinked at him, "Really?" Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked them away. "Thanks!" She put it on.

"Hey, everyone," Drake closed his lock box, "let me show you the attic."

* * *

He led them up the large stairs then up the smaller flight of stairs. "The attic space wasn't always closed in." Drake showed them the stonework, "You can see the stones between the windows are different from the stones above? These were crenulations." He opened a window. "You'd stand up here with your bow and arrow," he mimed.  
Gosalyn stuck her head out the window. "Not bad." She giggled, "All that's missing is the big dragon."  
"Heh, uh, right," Catlyn interjected in an awkward tone, "total bummer. Next stop, sparkling horses."  
"I hate that show," Gosalyn grumbled, "There's no respect anymore."  
"I know, right?" Catlyn agreed, "real horses are so much cooler."

"Hey, Gos, check out these old drawings."

Drake turned as Gosalyn went to Honker on the opposite side of the room by the shelf unit. They flicked through the protective covered architectural drawings.  
"Nice spinning wheel." Catlyn commented to Drake.  
"It's functional."  
"If you had a sheep."  
"My grandfather had a pet goat as a kid."  
Catlyn snorted in amusement.

Drake shut the window and went to Honker's side. "Justin Mallard in the late 1800s was an architect. He designed a lot of buildings."  
"Here's one of the manor."  
"Artist's impression," Drake chuckled, "For sure he didn't build this one."

"There's no basement," Gosalyn pointed.  
"No," Drake answered.  
Gosalyn turned around, "That doesn't make sense, Mr Mallard." She frowned up at him.  
Drake shook his head. "Why not?"  
"All castles have dungeons."  
"That's just a fantasy rule." Drake replied.  
"Well, where's your cellar?"  
"It's now the sitting, lounge and piano rooms. You've got to remember the downstairs part of-"  
"That's it!" Gosalyn raced down the stairs.  
"Gosalyn, wait up!" Honker hurried after her.

"Did I miss something here?" Drake puzzled blinking at Catlyn.

"She... doesn't believe the picture is all there is?" Catlyn shrugged, folding her arms.  
"Aha," Drake shook his head and started down the stairs after the kids, "I haven't been her age in a long time."  
Catlyn followed after him, "I don't think I was _'ever'_ her age."

* * *

Drake found Gosalyn pulling up the rugs, struggling with the piano's feet, examining the floorboards underneath.

"Anything, Honker?" She asked.  
"Not over here."  
"Wow, this is familiar. Sorry to disappoint," Drake watched in mild humour, "but I did the exact same thing when I was your age. You're not going to find anything."

"Let's try the library." They dashed between Drake and Catlyn.

"You think this is bad," Catlyn commented quietly to him, "You should hear her going on about the S.H.U.S.H. clean up project. She calls it a '_rabbit hole_'."  
Drake chuckled.

_"Found it!" _Gosalyn called.

An electric shock ran through Drake. _"No, don't you open that!"_ He vaulted into the library, the pair were standing beside the second bookcase on the external wall side.

His heart was racing. Drake snatched Gosalyn and Honker up off the ground and carried them away into the piano room. He put them on the armchair and knelt down in front of them.

"Okay..." He breathed, "Firstly, well done, secondly, I don't know anything about what you've just found. Don't believe for one second that it's safe down there. _Not a second;_ not even a half second." He stood up and stepped backwards from them. "Toby," he pointed, "guard them." Drake closed the door on Gosalyn's betrayed expression and went back into the library.

* * *

Catlyn was standing beside the second bookcase staring at him. "Why the freak out? What do you think is down there?"  
Drake swallowed, "Judging by my father's pale face and cryptic words," he breathed, "a vampire that hasn't turned to dust."  
Catlyn stared at him. _"No way!"_

Drake looked down to the floor planks. "I still don't see it."  
"It's under the bookcases." Catlyn pointed, "This piece of wood is the odd one out. See where it ends compared to the others?"  
Drake gazed at the slightly shorter plank. Surely it had matched before?

"And the rest of the door is hidden under the bookcase." He finished.  
"You want to see?"  
_"No!_ But what else am I going to do about Gosalyn?" Drake surrendered. "With or without us, she'll get that trap door open."  
"Pretty much," Catlyn raised her hand, moving the bookcases forward with telekinesis, making a walkway behind them.

Catlyn eyed him, "Are you alright? Your heart rate is super off."  
Drake breathed. "This is a ridiculously dangerous, stupid idea."  
"I've got your back," she shrugged.  
"Thanks." He took another steadying breath and pulled open the hatch by the inset iron loop handle.

* * *

The stone stairs were dusty and below all was darkness. Before Drake could think about fetching the lantern, a candle on a sconce on the wall came alight.

He jumped.

"Sorry!" Catlyn apologised. "Wow, you are tense."

They went down the stairs, the exterior wall continued down with them. They got to the bottom of the flight of stairs. Catlyn lit the candle in the sconce. The room to their left was empty barring a few vacant shelves. Drake took the candle and turned, heading for the darkness beyond the next stone archway.

* * *

In the centre of the room was a dust covered brown wooden coffin on a dust covered plinth. Drake felt dread. He approached the end and rubbed his sleeve over the plaque to read it.

* * *

**Sir Quackmire Mallard**  
**Dragon Slayer**  
**For Our Honour**

* * *

The wording was slightly different in the mausoleum. Drake set to recall.

Catlyn at the side of the coffin made to open the lid, interrupting his thoughts.

_"What are you doing!"  
"First thing she's going to do!"_ Catlyn replied, exasperated. _"What else?"  
_Drake felt a trepidation as Catlyn lifted the lid.

No decay. Slightly taller than Drake, thinner, dressed in a darkly toned quilted tunic with the family crest on it, black undershirt and black leggings.

Drake put his face in his hands, "Couldn't have been a pile of dust like the rest of us? Oh no. Couldn't have been put in the mausoleum with the rest of us? Oh no. Why? Because _he's not dead_."  
"He's been spiked," Catlyn rephrased, pulling open the top of the tunic, "Puts a vampire into stasis rather than dusts them. Grandpa says-."  
"This is extremely dangerous!" Drake shook his head.  
"Yeah, that... So, _get out of the way!_" She grabbed the spike and pulled it out.

On her instruction, Drake jumped back, spilling hot wax from the candle. _"Catlyn, no!" _Fear surged through him.

The figure within the coffin reached out and grabbed Catlyn down.

_They were both vampires._

A few moments later, Catlyn fell backwards against the wall. Drake moved to get to her, but saw Gosalyn and Honker appearing at the doorway. Drake moved to stand in front to guard them.

The vampire finished climbing out of the coffin. He took stock of them all and turned back to Catlyn.

"My humblest apology," he said in a light tone, extending his hand to help her.

_"Ugh, m'fine."_ Catlyn grumbled, pushing his hand away, "my ma didn't raise no deadbeat weakling." She got up on her own and moved to Drake. He stepped aside so she could get out.

Drake moved to block again, glaring at the vampire as he tried to step forward.  
**"Let's get a few things straight, here."** He postured menacingly, holding up the candle between them.

**"I am Darkwing Duck."**

**"I am the owner of this house."  
**

**"And St Canard is under '_my'_ protection." **

**"You so much as twitch a _feather _out of place and you're _plant fertiliser!_"**

"Understood, sir," the vampire gazed quietly at him. "However, you've just let a hungry vampire into your house. It is my wrong to right. Do be good enough to let me help her."

Drake glared and, carefully marshalling Gosalyn and Honker behind him, stepped aside.

The vampire crossed the next room and disappeared up the stairs.

**"Look later, kids,"** Drake ordered without taking his eyes off the vanishing point, **"Do _not_ leave my side." **

He started forward and turned up the stairs.  
"What did she do?" Gosalyn asked in a hushed tone.  
**"You know what a bomb is,"** Drake illustrated, **"she just diffused one for us."**

* * *

Upstairs, Drake heard the fridge slam.

By the time they'd crossed to the kitchen threshold, Catlyn was pulling away from the vampire. She turned away.  
"He doesn't seem too dangerous now," Honker observed quietly.  
**"Wrong."** Drake answered. **"Sir Quackmire Mallard, I presume?"  
**"Yes." The vampire bowed, "How may I be of service?"

Drake felt a simmering anger. **"How about telling us why someone felt it necessary to put a spike through your heart?"  
**"That was my son." Quackmire answered. "My memories... are so faded..." He shook his head dazedly, unseeing. "I... was fighting dragons... my son turned on me." He put his hand to his chest. "Very fast. But he must have thought of it before..."

**"Then you were doing something wrong."** Drake shook his head, **"Why?"**

Quackmire shook his head. "No..." He looked to Catlyn, raising his fingers towards her beak, "I never had a daughter. What a different life we could have had..." He then turned to the fridge, went and opened it, regarded the contents. "So, I see."

Drake looked to Catlyn and saw she had tears in her eyes.

"Catlyn, do you know why?" Drake asked her seriously.  
"Yes." She struggled to collect herself, "He's a widower. One of the most dangerous vampires on the list. No warning, no stops."  
Quackmire closed the fridge, contemplating. "My wife..."  
Catlyn shook her head. "Not stable, not safe."

**"In _'my'_ house."** Drake gritted. "Catlyn, I need you to watch him. I'll take these two home."

"Yes, sir." Catlyn answered crisply.

* * *

Drake walked Honker and Gosalyn home in disturbed silence.

How could this have possibly happened? Mallard Manor had been a safe place for centuries. The floor board. Why had it de-glamoured?

_For Our Honour._

In the mausoleum his plaque read '_Integrity, Honour and Justice_'.

Drake got to their mailboxes and turned to the pair. "I'm going to see an expert about this. I'll let you know if..." He paused, "I _'need'_ to make my house safe again. There is no _'if'."  
_"I can help you, I-."  
"I'm going." Drake interrupted Gosalyn, "to see the Vampire Slayer. She's the expert. She'll know what to do."  
Gosalyn's green eyes lit up, "_Keen gear_, can we go with you to see her?"

Drake stared at her in shock. "Gosalyn, this is your house." He gestured, "I've taken you home. Be safe, stay with your parents." He turned his eyes on Honker, "You too, Honker."

Drake stepped off and continued on up the road.


	23. Diagnostic

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**59**

**Diagnostic**

* * *

Drake stopped at the driveway of number 17 Maple Avenue. The loud discordant music pouring out through the open garage door suddenly stopped. The red headed triplets raced out to meet him.

"Hey!" The girl in the red T-shirt accosted him.  
"You're the weird guy Catlyn likes." The boy in orange observed.  
"I'm... the weird guy, yes." Drake answered in bemusement. "Is your mother in? It's pretty serious."  
"Sure. You want to come in?" The boy in yellow said.

"No." Drake shrugged uncomfortably, "I need air. Thanks."

* * *

Herbert came out of the garage as the kids raced inside to get their mum.

"Hi."  
"Uh, hi." Drake slighted a smile at him.

"Not to sound morbid, but... What happens to you when your wife dies, Agent M?"  
Herbert gazed back calmly, "What makes you think I'm that stupid, sir?"  
_"You bit her?"_ Drake stared at Herbert.  
"Blood sharing is a familial bonding act."  
Drake shivered, "Are you trained against trigger words?"  
"I'd better be; being married to _'her' _for ten years,_"_ Herbert chuckled.

* * *

Adult Gosalyn came out of the house, flustered, retying her ponytail. "What's wrong with you?" She gestured to Drake, "Why do you want to talk _'outside'_ the house?"  
"Because he has two kids tailing him." Herbert answered, "He can't let a wall get between him and them in case they get in trouble."

Drake gazed at Herbert for a moment. He was oh-so-casually advertising the fact that he was hearing the children's hearts beating.

"So what's the matter?" Gosalyn prompted him.  
Drake looked back to Gosalyn. "There's a five hundred year old vampire in my house." Drake answered simply. "Catlyn says he's a widower. I don't know how to help him and neither does my father but yet somehow he's there. Inside my house. _'My'_ house."  
"Okay, vampire, but," Gosalyn shrugged, "Why are you revving up over the house?"  
"Because it's _'my'_ house." Drake answered. "My family have lived in it for over _five hundred years_."  
Gosalyn stared at him.

"No fooling! You're part vampire?" She giggled, _"that explains a lot!"_  
Drake narrowed an eye at her, "Does it?"

"Look," Gosalyn grew serious again, "what did you leave this widower doing?"  
"Investigating the kitchen. At this rate, he should be done with the whole house in, oh, another fifteen years."  
"What did you say to him?"  
"That if he moved a feather out of line I'd dust him like a suit of armour."

"Well done for standing up for yourself, now how are you going to back that up?"  
Drake gestured to where they were standing. "Beyond asking you for help, you mean?"  
"Oh." Gosalyn uttered. "You know I don't actually happen to be a vampire, right? I have travel concerns."  
"Think positively, Gosalyn. Any suggestion, Agent M?"  
"Catlyn's watching him." Herbert said.

Unhappy with Herbert's answer, Drake frowned and asked again. "How do we diffuse this vampire?"

Gosalyn shook her head, "How long was it that he lost her? It gets progressively easier as time goes on. It isn't a perfect answer because there isn't one."

* * *

Drake rubbed his face. "How did this even happen?"

"You don't know?"  
Drake shook his head, "I mean, I know _'what'_ happened as a series of events. But it should never have set off in the first place. I'm a criminal psychologist; I can't help him. My father fights fires; he can't help him. This person is in my house... _how?"  
_Herbert shrugged. "It's simply random chance."

_"Impossible!"_ Drake rejected, "look," he breathed, "I've lived there my entire life. I have searched top to bottom, looking for secret passages and trap doors. I have done exactly what the kids did today and I have never seen that short plank before."

He breathed, "Now I know you've told me that you don't want to talk about this but in the face of what's just happened, I need to know: _who exactly is your daughter?_"

Gosalyn blinked, "Um. Sorry, what?"  
"I know all four of your parents. There's no genetic link to the Mallard bloodline, but that's the only thing I can think of."  
"You're only factoring the duck equation into that analysis, sir." Herbert stated, "Vampire genetics are different. Catlyn has zero points in nature, three points in nurture and five points in blood sharing. She's an eight out of ten Mallard vampire. I'm a six out of ten, the triplets are ten out of ten. You're a five out of ten, your father's a five out of ten. We're all Mallard vampires."

Drake swallowed. "A reverse dilution effect."  
"Yes."  
"So, what you're saying is," Drake stepped back, "Catlyn _'is'_ my genetic granddaughter."  
"Inter-versally, yes."

"Catlyn has the Mallard curse."  
"Off, not that thing again." Gosalyn scoffed. "We established perfectly well the last time; '_heroes aren't born, they're made_'."  
Drake blinked, "Uh, sorry wh...?"

* * *

"Oh, you think that's the-! Oh, no. That's the trigger point for the main part of the curse!"

They stared at him. 

"Catlyn's got the curse and the castle's picked up on it." Drake rubbed his head, "I have to ask if Catlyn can move in with us."  
_"Move in?!"_ Herbert objected.  
_"What castle?!"_ Gosalyn exclaimed. "Catlyn told us there's a sign on the fence '_and wall'_ that says _'manor'. As though that wasn't pompously arrogant enough, now you're saying it's a '_castle'_?!"_

Drake took a breath. "I'm not being arrogant, Gosalyn. It _'is'_ a manor. But, buried under that manor is a five hundred year old castle raised on goodwill. _Goodwill, Gosalyn._" He emphasised. "In your universe your father sold it before he became Darkwing Duck so he never found out. The castle calls people who need help to the door."  
_"Hogwash."_ Gosalyn folded her arms. "You really expect us to believe that?"  
"I'm with Gosalyn on this one. I can't see any scientific sense in what you're saying." Herbert agreed.

"You want science?" Drake rubbed his head, "How about... a reverse _Tardis?_ Instead of you going _'to'_ trouble, it attracts people _'in'_ trouble _'to'_ it. You believe in '_meta energy frequencies_', right, Agent M?" Drake looked at Herbert, then to Gosalyn: "Emotional auras, good vibes, funny feelings?"  
"I do..." Herbert frowned, "that's how I eat."

"Then you understand. The castle is a goodwill beacon resonating at the frequency of the Mallards living inside it... Which now apparently includes your daughter. You'd have to remove every original stone from out of that place to stop it from calling people to the door. People like this vampire... who neither me or my father can help."

Herbert stepped away, shaking his head.

* * *

Gosalyn interrupted the silence. "Will the house trigger if any of the rest of us step in there for a visit?" She asked.

Drake considered a long while.

"Starting from the beginning: Catlyn comes to the door. For one, she's met me before, but nothing's a coincidence with this castle so I see about how I can help her. She talks about her memory of a slamming door and the feeling of being shut out of somewhere."  
"Like the other universe," Gosalyn supplied.  
"She's close to her grandfather, isn't she?" Drake asked for confirmation.  
"He helped me hatch her," Gosalyn said tearfully, "he's always been there for her. They're on that level when visiting just isn't enough."

"Visiting." For a moment, Drake looked to the ground.

"Agent M," Drake looked up at Herbert, "how long has your daughter been making adult decisions to help?"  
"A while," Herbert answered quietly.  
"I know this is a sore spot for you."

Herbert gazed back at him and slowly shook his head, "Catlyn is my daughter. She always has her home in my nest. That doesn't mean she can't go and make her own nest or stay in her grandfather's nest. So long as I know where she is. So long as she knows I'm always with her. Everything else is transitory... It seems strange to pick a fight with a bunch of rocks. But it's not the weirdest thing I've done or can do. Offhand, I know there's at least one way to do it, but I'll look into it only if she needs me to." He turned and walked into the house.

Drake looked at Gosalyn.

"Catlyn's always been an independent child," Gosalyn frowned. "Way too old for her age. You know what grade she's in?"  
"Eleven, isn't it, judging by the textbook?"  
"Yes. Know how old she is?"  
Drake shook his head.  
"Fourteen. There's only four years between her and the triplets; but it's always felt like eight. It's just who she is. Head strong, self sufficient and independent. When I finally managed to track down her... '_genetic starting point_', well, can you believe my shock?"  
"She was nothing like him?"  
"Actually, the shock was from Honker hitting him over the head with the gas gun," Gosalyn stated flatly. "In that one brief moment, he was absolutely terrifying and absolutely capable of anything. On that note; have a good afternoon." She turned away and headed into the house.

* * *

Drake stared after Gosalyn for a long moment, considering why she'd made the implied threat.

_Note to self._

He chuckled and looked around him for the nearby hiding place; a bush by next door's mail box. "Come on, you two," he said, walking up to them; "back home."

* * *

After a house length, Drake stopped, looking back at Honker and Gosalyn trailing a bit too far behind him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gosalyn looked hurt.  
"Because events have happened in their universe that haven't happened in ours and vice versa." Drake explained. "You were already different before all this. You're even more different now. It's not a temporal paradox, but it's definitely headache inducing." He started walking again.

* * *

"Who's Agent M?" Gosalyn asked, trotting up beside him.  
"He's a vampire..." Drake hesitated, "he introduced himself as an interrogation expert and he's helping us fix some medical equipment or something at work. That was my first private conversation with him."

"Are all these vampires really related to you?" Honker asked, coming into step at his other side.  
"Yeah..." Drake felt a bit lost. "The... _'me'_ from the other universe is really into... blood sharing." He swallowed. "I don't... get it. I don't get him; I get Steelbeak more. All this is too weird for me, I guess. There's a point when you just stop taking things in."  
"Brain overload, yeah." Gosalyn agreed, "bummer."  
Drake chuckled, "So long as you two are alright."

"Did the castle really hide that floorboard from you, sir?" Honker asked.  
"Really really. That's why I didn't have a problem with you guys looking. Because you were with me. Actually, it turns out, you were with her... And she handled it pretty darn well." He smiled quietly.

"Does that mean we can come back to see you?" Gosalyn asked hopefully.  
Drake chuckled, "Catlyn's the one who decides that one; it's her case."

"Does that mean there could be other places in the house we haven't seen?" Honker asked.  
Drake widened his eyes, looking ahead, "Maybe."  
"The castle's really sneaky."  
"Yes. Yes, it is," Drake shook his head. "But it's only here to help."

* * *

Drake stopped at the mailboxes.

Gosalyn raced inside as Honker checked the Muddlefoot's empty mailbox.

Drake put a reassuring hand on Honker's shoulder. "How're you holding up, Honk?"  
"He's very different from me. I could never interrogate someone."  
Drake shrugged, "I thought it was odd at the meeting."  
"Can you please check for me, sir?" Honker looked up at him, "It's slightly concerning."

Drake paused, "Because he's a reflection of you?"  
"Because it's a formula, and I need to know if it's the same formula."  
"Sure." Drake gazed at him, "You're taking this really well."

Honker sighed, glancing to Gosalyn's house. "I've only known her two months. By tomorrow morning she'll probably have figured it out and never want to talk to me again and I don't even feel that way about her because I'm not old enough and neither is she."  
"Just stay sensible, Honker. And anytime someone trips you over; ball up, jump up... and then bowl them over with physics!"  
Honker smiled up at him. "Thank you, sir."

"And I'll investigate this formula for you..." Drake chuckled, "I am _'supposed'_ to be investigating them, after all."  
Honker smiled at him. "That's handy."  
"I'm back on duty tomorrow, so if I don't have an answer by tomorrow afternoon, I'll have a pretty good story to tell you, like maybe there was a F.O.W.L. apocalypse or something," he joked.

Honker's smile faded, "That wouldn't really happen would it, sir?"  
"Oh, no. S.H.U.S.H. totally have the ball," he reassured. "Go inside, Honker, I can smell your mum's pot roast from here."

"Thank you, sir." Honker turned and hurried inside the house.


	24. House Rules

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**60**

**House Rules**

* * *

Drake got home and closed the door behind him.

Catlyn stepped out of the library, looking overwhelmed at him. "Grandfather?" She asked uncertainly.  
Drake nodded. "By virtue of reverse dilution."  
Catlyn stepped into the piano room.  
Drake was compelled to follow.

She sat down on the ottoman. "Blood sharing's not really a thing for you, I'm taking it?"  
Drake sat down tentatively beside her, "Yeah, I'm not really getting it."  
"Well, if it's any consolation, neither does he." She nodded to the library next door. Catlyn stopped, considering. "There's a snake in the other room."  
"Yeah, that's Baby."  
"I'm not going to ask. How about bats?"  
Drake paused, considering. "They're pretty social animals. Big family groups..."  
"If you're really my grandfather..." Catlyn paused for a moment.  
Drake stayed still. "My blood can tell you?"  
She nodded. Quietly she leaned forwards and tilted her head.

A gentle sedation filled his mind.

* * *

_"Drake, can I talk to you for a minute, please?"  
Drake stopped the video and stood to attention. "Dad?"  
His dad watched him carefully, "I've seen that episode three times and I haven't even watched it."  
"Darkwing Duck is the best!" Drake spurted.  
His father chuckled and knelt down. "Tell me why? Who is he to you?"_

_Drake fumbled with a dozen answers._

_His father smiled, "I want to show you something."  
Drake followed his father into the study.  
"You want more detective stories?" He pulled out a book from the journal section. "Detective constable Drake Mallard. That was my father." He put it on the desk. "You want more tales of the weird? First Assistant to the Director of S.H.U.S.H., Justin Mallard. Derring-do? Liam Mallard the 'Dark Doubloon'." He gestured to the cupboard, "I agree, Darkwing Duck is definitely cool, but that costume he's wearing is just a suit of armour. It's what's inside that counts and, all I see is a mystery."_

_"I know, you don't like mysteries, dad."  
His father tapped his finger on the top book. "Your grandfather did though. So why not let 'him' teach you how to be a_ 'real'_ detective?"_

* * *

Catlyn withdrew and hugged him.

Drake hugged her back for a moment, "So, bats; all in for sharing."  
Catlyn pulled away with a slight smile. "Yeah."  
"What else am I missing about vampires?"  
Catlyn frowned slightly, "You want a recital?"  
"Sure," Drake shrugged, "Put me on the same page as you, Catlyn."

She stood up, "Alright, outside. Where every vampire begins."

* * *

In the kitchen, Morgana and Drake's mother were making dinner.

Drake stopped, "Ladies, allow me to introduce..." They turned, "Sir Quackmire Mallard, and my granddaughter Catlyn Mallard from the other universe. My mother, Eleanor Silvya Mallard and my wife, Morgana Mallard. We're all family now."  
Quackmire bowed as did Morgana and his mother. "Forgive me, but... are you not... of the magic folk?"  
"I am, however, I'm not interested in following arcane traditions. Magic has its place but I see more satisfaction in a well made bowl of soup."

"Speaking of which, dinner won't be too long. Your father should be home soon."  
"This won't take long." Catlyn moved to the door, "I'm just reciting."

* * *

Catlyn walked down to the far side of the low stone fenced garden to the well. Morgana had stopped weeding three quarters down and only planted the first quarter so far. Drake glanced as Quackmire came to stand near to his side.

"Perfect." Catlyn stated, regarding their surroundings, "Okay, so how you described the obstacle course was geometry and physics. Well, the vampire prime numbers starts with: earth, water, air, fire and heart. My starting element is fire." She turned to the remaining jungle inside the garden walls. At once it lit up in a blaze.

Quackmire gasped and then the fire stopped.  
"Magic."  
"Not... quite." Catlyn answered, "As a vampire I'm directly involved in... well, I'm the one pushing the cart, magic's more like a person steering the cart. I admit it can come off looking the same. So that's fire, anyway, great for clearing spaces, happens when you get super defensive over something. This is where you get your dragons guarding whatever treasure. They tend to say 'Back off, that's mine' a lot."

"Indeed." Quackmire stated.

"So, moving on to the softer side of emotions, you find water." Catlyn turned to the well. Water rose gurgling up from the depths to go over their heads and come sprinkling down over the entire garden. "Water is great for cleaning and healing, but compassion and caring also gets a super narky side because you get sensitive and easily hurt. This is where you get your snakes and alligators. They tend to say 'Leave me alone or you'll get it'."

"Next we move to the logical side of nature." Catlyn stepped away from the well, walking back up the length of the garden. "We've got a massively empty plot of earth. There are stacks of things you can do with this. The possibilities are endless. From plant to sky rise tree house." Catlyn raised her hand and alongside Morgana's seedlings, a short row of trellises rose into existence. Climber seedlings sprouted and starting growing up. "Gardeners, architects, even blacksmiths are in this element. The dark side of earth is disregard. 'Whoa, you're a _"you"?_ I totally didn't see you there when I built this massive freeway over the top of your house'."

"Next of course is air." A breeze circled around them as she gestured. "Always around us, always moving. Air is observant, air is shadow, air is emotionless, peaceful, logical and mathematical. The dark side is disconnection. Air has no preference to anything. Life and death is just part of the game."

"You find your heart, balancing in between these things." She looked at Quackmire. "Judgement tempered with feeling structured by understanding."  
"A laudable attainment." Quackmire answered.  
"Justice, honour and integrity," Drake rephrased.

* * *

Drake stared at the plants. "Catlyn, fire element gives wolf, water gives snake. Air gives bat. What does the earth element allow a vampire to animorph to?"  
"Usually a statue," she answered, "Sometimes a plant."  
"Plant!" Drake felt a tremor of excitement. "I saw my duplicate do it. That has to be the coolest morph."

Catlyn paused, "Your starting discipline is water. The earth element is literally the opposite of your normal way of thinking. Too much water gives you an ocean, not a forest."  
"Oh."  
"So, are you up for a challenge?"  
Drake nodded.  
"Okay, so to do this, the first thing you need to do is change your mindset. Get out of compassion, and get into the neutral zone. Plants aren't emotional, they're constructive."  
Drake closed his eyes, focusing.

_I am rock._

He felt Catlyn's hands to the sides of his face.

_I am rock._

_I am plant._

A rough hand seized his elbow, pulling him away from Catlyn.

Drake opened his eyes, "Quackmire, what...?"  
"What are thee, wench?"  
Drake turned about and knocked him to the ground. **"She's my granddaughter! That's who she is!"** Drake stated fiercely, "She's your great granddaughter, she's a child becoming an adult and she deserves your respect and protection. **On your honour, knight!**"

Quackmire's face grew ashen, gazing up at Drake. "I see you turn from plant to fire."  
Drake stared down at Quackmire, "Yes, you do. So either you talk me down with constructive reasoning, or go fetch your sword," he glared.

"**Your choice**."

"...I would prefer the former."  
Drake offered his hand. "So would I." He helped Quackmire to stand again.

Quackmire bowed to Catlyn, "Forgive my harsh tone, fair Catlyn."  
Catlyn swallowed, "Absolutely, uh, '_we all have bad days_'? ...Um, forgiven."  
"Let's go in." Drake gestured Quackmire ahead, "Meet my father."

Drake turned to Catlyn to explain. "Showing respect is important. It helps you to think about someone rationally rather than emotionally."  
"I never thought about it like that." Catlyn replied. "That's a neat balancing trick."


	25. Chaos Theory

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**61**

**Chaos Theory**

* * *

It took hours of runabout and reception room hopping before Hooter got fed up with trying to get more information from Hamil Corp. He hadn't managed any specific information, hadn't managed to connect to anyone higher up in the chain. He'd barely gotten any names, but he had gotten what he needed for his assessment.

The Hamil Corp business was run by vampires, and Hamil Corp was the name of the buyer of Agent M and Gosalyn Mallard's house.

* * *

He stopped at the door to the labs. Invalid access. Hooter frowned at his pass card and went back to reception.

"Agent Lorres, can I please ask why and who revoked my access privilege to the labs?"  
"Acting Assistant Director Hooter. No non-essential personnel are to enter the research division pending management review. And management's a bit busy right now."  
Hooter gazed at him. "No reasoning given?"  
"Not to me."

Hooter frowned, recalling his brief meeting with Darkwing that morning.

* * *

_Darkwing standing at a computer station, a look of intense concentration on his face. The screen was flickering in his eyes. __He was skimming the open case file directory._

_"Oh." Hooter was disappointed.  
__Darkwing turned away from the screen. "Hi to you too."  
__"I'm sorry." Hooter explained, "I thought you might be working on the new agent assessment case."  
__Darkwing raised an eyebrow, "Actually, yes I am." He turned back to the screen, "The Assistant Director had a very good comeback."  
__"What was that?"  
__"It was 'Go find one'. So I just need to hop on one of these. Glad I started early. This could take me hours... There's one that's close!" He jolted, "Agent Green's the team leader on this one."_

_"What?" Hooter was confused.  
__"Need a suspect to interrogate." Darkwing answered, shutting the station down and heading out._

_Hooter watched him go. "How is it you make everything you do sound interesting?"_

* * *

Remembering Darkwing talking about a _'suspect',_ Hooter went over to the interrogation rooms. He checked the register. Nothing yet. Hooter just needed to wait.

* * *

The man that Agent Green and Darkwing had collected for questioning was a burly sort of pig, a construction worker.

"You read the file already?" Agent Green asked as Agent M stepped up to them.  
"No. That would taint the reading." He shook his head and went in.

"Mister Hoofwaite. I'd like-." Agent M began.  
"Look." The interviewee asserted gruffly, pointing to the table, "I didn't do nothing. I was nowhere there at the time."  
"We're all guilty of doing something and we're always somewhere. That's how life works, for good and bad."

Hoofwaite frowned.

"Tell me about the flower. How did you get it?"  
"My daughter gave it to me... It was a daisy, she found it somewhere."  
"Can you walk me through that day?"  
_"That_ day?" He frowned, thinking, "cereal, work, sandwich, work, home, meatloaf. I helped Drew with her homework, we watched Duck Homes and went to bed."

"What happened over breakfast?"  
"I had a argument with Ollie, it wasn't over anything important; everybody argues sometimes!"  
"Very true. How about lunch? Tell me about the vendor."  
Hoofwaite paused, surprised, "I thought he was odd."

"Please go through what happened? It was lunch, you went to get food."  
"He was a new guy, he tried to overcharge me, and he made the worst sandwich."  
"In what way was it bad?"  
Hoofwaite shook his head, "Mustard, tomato, lettuce, sugar, chocolate chips, cheese, tofu and hot sauce and I don't know what else."

"It was a pre-made pack?"

"Yeah, I'm not fussy." Hoofwaite snorted, "So I thought. Proved me wrong. What's this got to do with the flower?"  
"You do. That's all. Can you describe the vendor, how did he look, how did he act?"  
"He had dark hair..." Hoofwaite frowned, "Twitchy, when I pulled him up over the overcharge. He was skinny, he was wearing... I dunno, under the apron. It was black."  
"The stall name was embroidered?"  
"Yeah, _S'wiched On_."

"You say he was skinny. Did he look well though?"  
"No. Pasty. I reckon he needed the sandwich more than I did."  
"Anything else, any vibes?"  
Hoofwaite frowned, "I usually take people for how they are."  
"This is an investigation." Agent M shook his head. "Even your subjective opinion is important."

"He creeped me out." Hoofwaite shrugged, uncomfortably. "Staring."  
"Did you see or notice other customers at _S'wiched On_ that day?"

Hoofwaite's face went white, "_Larry came back with a sandwich_! He'd gone to get a coffee from the baristas but he also had a pre-pack, I remember because we talked about how bad they were! _What he heck is going on?!_"

"Can you think of anyone else who was a customer, Mr Hoofwaite?"  
Hoofwaite struggled, "woman... grey hair, blue flower dress, a young guy in a business suit... Did something happen to them too?"  
"We're investigating. The important thing is you're here and that's the safest place right now. I'll get our medical staff to help find whatever you ate and get it out of you."

"What did I eat?"  
"Some sort of tracking device. They're not always metal. So let our staff help you and after that you'll be fine."

* * *

Agent M stood up and left the room. "You didn't think he actually did it, do you?"

"No." Darkwing answered quickly, "but he was out the night it happened and that's as close as we were so far. Suspect, witness, victim, convicted felon. Everyone's a person."  
Agent M nodded, "I need to inform-."  
"Agent Green can do that." Hooter interrupted. "Agent Green?"  
He nodded, "Already done."

Agent M blinked.

"Thanks for your help. That was pretty amazing." Agent Green walked off.

"Agent M, I need a word." Hooter gestured to the spare interview room next door. "Darkwing?"

* * *

Agent M went to the back of the room, "What's the situation?"

Hooter closed the door and turned. "S.H.U.S.H. doesn't prohibit people from having second jobs, but they have to be considerate of the fact that they aren't in direct conflict of interest."  
Agent M sat down on one of the interviewee chairs. "Explain."  
"I was hoping you could," Hooter stated, sitting down in one of the interviewer chairs.

"It's a very large remuneration bonus. A four bedroom house."  
Agent M double blinked. "You're better talking about it with my wife. She's the one who organised that."  
"I dare say no." Hooter rejected, "You're the one who's the vampire."  
"I don't work for Hamil Corp!" Agent M stated seriously.

"Hamil Corp?" Darkwing asked.  
Hooter explained. "It's run by vampires."  
"It's an inter-versal organisation." Agent M added, "My father in law has a card, so does my wife. She has the card because she's a Vampire Slayer. That's her job with them."  
Darkwing sat down, "Why would vampires hire someone to kill them?"

Agent M's beak quirked. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and put it on the table. "I noticed you all are crazy over having these in this universe. I haven't needed one until I crossed universes. One thing I'll say about it is that it makes noise. If it goes off in a meeting, everyone hears it."

"You can turn the sound off."

"Yes sir. You can." Agent M put the phone away. "We have a society. Criminals are a by-product of any social demographic. For some reason, this universe is a little over-run. Why are...?" He shook his head, "Sorry."  
"Why are what?"  
"I was trying to correlate our census statistics over the weekend."  
"No luck?" Darkwing asked.

"Nothing useful." Agent M answered, "We're dealing with Chaos theory." He brought his phone back out. "I managed to track down one solid event change in history. I looked it up, highly confidential army records. Relates to you." He slid it over to Darkwing.

Darkwing considered the screen for a minute.

* * *

"He didn't die in your universe because Grizlykoff was standing there."

"And that simple switch of places caused the death of over..." Agent M closed his eyes, "I quit counting at two thousand." He sat back rubbing his face. "It gets worse. Check the names in the squad."  
Darkwing looked, "Some of them don't match."

"Because this wasn't the first event in the chain. The simple effect of changing two people led to a different social dynamic. This caused the other two to stand on opposite sides of a line up." He shook his head. "This stuff genuinely gives me a headache. How far back is the grandparent event? You two exist, I exist, my wife exists; it can't be that far."

"A unique supernatural occurrence outside our genetic lines?"  
Agent M nodded. "From outside of our universes."  
"Perhaps a vampire from another alternate universe?"

Agent M shook his head. "Unlikely. You need to understand the universal energy equation in order to move between two universes and to do that you need to be completely entrenched in it." He raised his hand and it turned green and leafy. "When I crossed over to here, I lost my parents, I lost my brothers, I lost my sisters, I lost my friends. I've been transplanted, and it _hurts_. And then you have to appreciate the extent of the changes. Doctor Vykes never even _existed_ in the other universe. The last Vykes in St Canard died in 1854 in a saloon brawl."

"The only extra dimensional creatures I can confirm existing are demons." He stood up. "I've got to check on Hoofwaite." He left the room.

* * *

Darkwing sat beside Hooter for a time, his arms folded.

"You think that demon effected our universe?" Hooter looked at him.  
"Yep." Darkwing answered immediately.  
"How are you so sure?"  
"Because what else would F.O.W.L. be trying to dig up?" Darkwing stood up. "I'm going to go home and try to find the date."  
Hooter stood up as well. "Not to F.O.W.L.?"  
"Home is where the history lives. No better place to start looking."

Hooter watched him walk out.


	26. Madman's Scramble

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**62**

**Madman's Scramble**

* * *

Confounded, Hooter went to follow up Agent M's statement with the Assistant Director. After enquiring at reception, he found her overseeing an entrance examination.

"Assistant Director?"  
She glanced at him, "Agent Hooter. Yours is tomorrow."  
He stopped, "I wasn't aware they'd already started, sir."  
"You won't see me messing around on the job; fastest way to an early grave. As I keep telling my cadets. How can I help you, agent?"

He felt momentary discomfort. "Hamil Corp bought your house."

"I used the card. It's their problem; they can pay for it." She winced, still watching the course. "That's a bit harsh of me. It's traditionally the Vampire Master's problem, only for some reason there isn't one in this universe. No Vampire Master, no Vampire Slayer; no law, no order. Pity I can't find out why."  
"You can't ask the people at Hamil Corp?"  
Gosalyn laughed, "Me? _I scare them senseless_! My husband's the only one with guts in this place."

"Are you saying the Slayer and Master are connected?"  
She shook her head, "Not between universes. It's just me and my husband here with our kids."  
Hooter frowned, "It must be terribly lonely for you."  
"It's harder for him." Gosalyn shifted position, "As far as my duck brain's concerned, I kind of still have my father." She shook her head. "And his parents aren't getting any younger... I can't give you any assignments until you've done the exam."  
"I know..."

He paused, "Regardless, I'm not sure how up-to-date you are with the situation, so I apologise if I'm repeating but F.O.W.L. is digging a very deep hole midtown. Darkwing thinks it may be connected to why our universes have diverged. He's gone to research it."  
"Research it how? My husband's already checked the internet for that stuff."  
"Darkwing's family has kept journals spanning five hundred years. Do you think there's a connection to the disappearance of the Vampire Master and the freak occurrence?"

"Yeah, probably." Gosalyn answered, "If that threat was big enough she'd throw everything at it. Slayer, her, the kitchen sink. She's no Darkwing Duck." She sighed. "You guys are missing a lot of moves here."

Hooter frowned at Gosalyn's attitude. "Invariably."

* * *

Hooter drove to Mallard Manor.

Drake led him into the library, "May I introduce Catlyn Mallard and-."

"Mire Mallard. I am a distant relative." The other shook his hand. "I've been hearing tell of a demon lurking betwixt the covers of one of these journals."  
"Did you manage to get any more hints, Hooter?" Drake asked.  
"It has to do with our vampire situation." Hooter blinked at the strange accent and looked back at Drake, "We can cut out the last two centuries. This event precipitated the hostilities."

"Perhaps you may retell your story in full?" Mire asked in his strange accent.

Hooter blinked at him, "Erm, the premise, is when this thing arrived In St Canard, it was the Vampire Master that brought the situation to a close in a way that she didn't survive the encounter. As it has been explained to me, the Vampire Master is the one that holds order. Without such a person, the situation degenerates. A ship without a steering wheel."

"Let us not give out on hope." Mire picked up a black covered journal from the table, "I will attend to finishing this one."

"Any idea, grandpa?" Catlyn asked.  
Drake frowned, "It's a bit vague what we're looking for..." he frowned staring at the books.

Hooter paused, Drake answering to _'grandfather'? _Surely this was the _Assistant Director's daughter?_

Drake pointed to each spine, "For one, we know they weren't in that fight, or else..."  
"Else what?" Catlyn asked.  
"Else they died alongside the Vampire Master and didn't enter it into their journal." He pulled out one book and handed it to Catlyn. "Let me give you the date to start reading." He pulled the next journal down and flipped to the back. "1672."

"Arthur Mallard." Catlyn flipped to the page and started reading.

* * *

_"The earth shook so violently, I thought I heard the sky scream in retaliation. My father made more sense of the noise and pointed us to the south. We gathered supply and took to the road. We rode hard until we reached the outskirts of town. It was then I came to understand what horror I was riding to meet; the earthquake had surely made the __St Canard __mine collapse. That was why the sky had screamed. It was only when I'd gotten to the caved in entrance that I realised my father's absence._

_With shovel and pick, the whole town worked, uncovering the passage, removing the rubble, recovering those trapped beneath the rocks. It was a madman's scramble. We were hours at the task. It grew dusk and I sent the youngest of us off for more supplies. We continued on with lanterns, all the way through the night. We didn't stop until we had found all the survivors._

_Twas midday when I took again to stirrup. Verily spent, I went in search of my father. I rode the well know hills and dales of the isle. Bronwyn shied, waking me from my twilight mind. It took me a moment to realise where we stood. It was Pigress' Cottage that Bronwyn refused step. No cottage, no garden, no fence. In place of what was, stood a tree; a grown tree with some twenty years of growth upon it. Grass and clover covered the ground._

_I backed Bronwyn away from the place till I was far enough to regard the enormity of change. There was an edge to this otherworldly thing that had transpired. All I could say for it, was that there was nothing to be done. It was nightfall when I came to stable. As he took the reins I asked Liam, though I already knew the answer. My father had not returned. _

_A day has passed. The feeling has returned to my body; perhaps less can be said of my mind. There is small comfort in knowing my father died in battle and left peace in his wake. _

_Another three days have passed since the terrible tragedy. Londuck's boy came by to return Gabrielle to us. May my father rest in peace."_

* * *

They were silent for a long moment.

Catlyn slammed the book shut. _"She buried them in there!"_ She said aggressively. "She, him, and that thing. And just to be doubly sure that '_no one'_ was getting out of there, she threw her last bit of energy out and into that tree so it couldn't be used against her '_imperial decree'_. Perfect. And you wonder why my mum gets so ticked off all the time. How can you work with someone harbouring a death wish?" She took a breath. "Alright, so now F.O.W.L.'s digging them all up. Anyone want to place a bet on_ which one they'll find alive?!_ I need air." Catlyn finished flatly. She handed Drake the journal and powered out.

Drake stared after her as the front door shut.

"We have to assume it's the beast." Hooter stated.  
"Agreed."

Drake was silent.

"Drake?" Hooter prompted.  
"Ah, yes; it's a safe bet to say the beast is still alive." Drake shook himself, "Have we got an active agent who's an expert in eldritch abominations?"  
"Oh." Hooter disapproved, "Drake. It's clearly just an alien."  
"In some circles _'I'm'_ an alien," Drake retorted. "Who's our expert in eldritch affairs?"  
"We don't have one."  
"Okay." Drake took his answer and, two books in hand, stepped off to the doorway.  
"What, what is _'okay'?"_ Mire asked in consternation.

Drake turned to Mire, "I'm going to ask Scrooge McDuck. Want to come?"  
Mire strode past Hooter, "I certainly wish to aide you in your quest against the beast, Darkwing Duck."  
Drake handed him the two books, "Let me just check with Morgana; I want to make sure I haven't missed an obvious answer."

Hooter watched Drake leave the room.

* * *

Mire turned to Hooter. "Where lives this Scrooge McDuck fellow?"

"Duckburg."  
Mire's eyes widened. "I see no wonder he asked. We would not wish to sacrifice expediency on this quest. There must-." He turned, stepping out into the hall, "Darkwing." He addressed, "There must be a sword close to hand; where are your archers?"  
Drake frowned, "I kind of reprogrammed them. I don't know how many of them have survived; what F.O.W.L. did with them after that." He stepped back, "Thank you. You've made a good point. I'll go and fix the defences on that place. By the time I'm finished, you two should be on your way back from Duckburg."

"We could simply call him," Hooter suggested.  
"Not good enough." Drake shook his head. "He needs to see the books. He needs to know the whole situation. He needs to take charge of the case."  
"Drake, what if it isn't eldritch?"  
"Then it's dead and F.O.W.L. are digging up its bones. Win-win." He went and opened the front door. "Catlyn." He called, then turned back to them, "She'll go with you." Drake headed to the garage to the left.

Hooter led Mire out the front door and shut it behind him. The garage door sounded and the motorcycle started up. Drake took off and the garage door closed behind him as Hooter stepped off the porch.

* * *

Down on the roadside, Catlyn was waiting by his car.

"Front or back?" She asked Mire, gesturing as Hooter went to the driver's side.  
"I think..." Mire considered the alternatives, "back."  
She opened the door and let him in as Hooter got into the driver's side.

Seeing the two in the mirror, Hooter felt an odd disappointment. He'd been so sure Mire was a vampire. Catlyn helped Mire with his seat belt and closed the door. Hooter did his seat belt as Catlyn got into the passenger seat and did hers.

Hooter started the engine and began the two hour drive.

* * *

"Where are you from, Mire?" Hooter queried after a while.

"I hatched in a small village, north of the mountains. My father raised me till I was eight and thereafter sent me to St Canard for schooling."  
"Your mother?"  
"My father never spoke of her."  
"Agent Hooter." Catlyn said carefully, "I can't stress how serious PTSD is here. Please stop interrogating my patient."  
"I apologise. It wasn't my intention to start an interrogation."

"Are you an Inquisitor then, Agent Hooter?"  
"I investigate crimes that the regular police can't handle." Hooter answered. "I used to consider myself a diplomat. I can't say I've done a very good job of that lately."  
"Why do you think that is?" Catlyn asked.

Hooter sighed. "I have a guilt complex. I'll find myself rethinking some facts, instead of considering them all equally. Even just today. I spent hours following up on my financial check on your parents. Meanwhile, Darkwing was doing an integrity check on them. Even though your father had made the matter clear, I still felt the need to cross examine your mother about it."

"Yeah, I see where you went wrong. You're comparing yourself to Darkwing. Stuff doesn't work like that. Mallards are great pitchers. But we can still lose if nobody's fielding the ball. That's exactly what happened in 1672. We can't let that happen again. He doesn't need you to do his job; he needs you to do yours."

"Verily." Mire agreed.  
"I agree in principle," Hooter stated, "However your mother seems to hold a different opinion."  
"Oh, you think _'you've'_ got pressure." Catlyn chuckled, "imagine actually _'being'_ Darkwing Duck."  
Hooter was quiet, thinking that over for a time as he drove.


	27. Surrender

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**63**

**Surrender**

* * *

Hooter parked outside the lot of McDuck Manor. He, Mire and Catlyn fell in step through the gates.

With a small ping of air, an arrow came hurtling offside, hit an invisible barrier and bounced off.

_"Nice shootin', short stuff!"_ Catlyn yelled up at the house, _"How's your aim with a fire hose?"_ A great tall ring of fire surrounded them.  
_"Oh, please, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't set fire to the house."_ The little girl called.  
_"Sure, how about a swim then?"_ The fire went out and a great rush of water pooled from the backyard to start a swirling wall of water around them.  
_"Thank you very much!"_ The girl called, _"and I have to say I really appreciate how you're employing position __holding tactics__."_

"How old's Scrooge McDuck, Hooter?" Catlyn asked, "forty, seventy...?"  
"Seventy at least."  
_"Hey kid!"_ Catlyn yelled, _"any idea where we can find your grandpa?"  
__"Oh, he's in town somewhere... he's not actually my grandfather though."  
__"Any clue how we can find him?"  
__"That's key strategic information. Sorry but I can't divulge that to enemy hostiles."  
_"Where not hostile..."  
_"Sure, okay kid, thanks."_ Catlyn called. She turned around and Hooter and Mire followed after her.

"We'll have to wait for him to return." Hooter resolved bitterly.

"Why not help him?" Catlyn shrugged, "Mire, let's put the books in the car and go dust some vampires."  
Hooter unlocked the car and Mire put the books in the back.  
Mire fell in step behind Catlyn, "Fair Catlyn, we are unarmed; we will fall quickly out of favour in such a battle."  
Catlyn went to a nearby sapling. It began to visibly grow taller. At double height, Catlyn snapped off the now low lying branch. She worked the branch and snapped it in two. Then she tapered the ends between her fingers. She handed one to Mire and Hooter.

"Now you're armed. Aim for the heart and don't be a noob and forget there's a rib cage."  
"I see you've done this quest before." Mire stated to her.  
Catlyn shrugged, "The first thing is try to see which trick the vampire is pulling. If it's telekinesis-."  
"Tel who?"

"Sorry. Fire consumes air. Air consumes water. Water washes away earth and earth smothers fire. If the guy's using more than one element in his tricks, then he's vulnerable to conversation."

"And if there's a number of them?"  
"They'll all be pulling the same trick. Slash and dash."

* * *

The battle wasn't long after they arrived. One apiece, dust particles shortly flew in the air. Everyone watched the particles settling to the grass amidst the trees and gravestones.

Scrooge McDuck straightened, casting tense scrutiny from Catlyn and Mire to Hooter.

"Aye, Hooter, what're you doing, jumping us for? We could'a mistaken yeh for them."  
"Agreed." Agent 22 brushed the dust from her clothes. "There's one thing to be living dangerously, quite another to reckon with us."  
"Sorry, don't think we've had the pleasure...?" Scrooge asked looking at Mire.

"Catlyn Mallard." She introduced, "Sir Mire Mallard."  
"This is Mrs Beakley: Agent 22."  
"How do you do."  
"You fight well." Mire stated.  
"Aye, tis my home; I'll defend every last yard of it." Scrooge eyed him.  
"What name do you go by, warrior?"  
Scrooge raised an eyebrow.

Hooter cleared his throat, "Er, Mire, this is Scrooge McDuck."

"You are bespoken to be a scholar. Pardon me for my ignorance."  
"...So that's why you've tracked me down? Well, let's not make bones about it in a graveyard."  
Scrooge led them back to McDuck Manor.

* * *

They stopped at the car to collect the books.

"Aye," Scrooge eyed them, "There's some years on those things. Are they sacred?"  
"To one such as I." Mire stated. "They are books of the dead."  
"Whoa," Catlyn interrupted, grabbing his arm, "Focus, Mire. Where we are, right here in the now. What do you think of this cool house? Huge, isn't it? Bigger than our place. How many rooms? Go on, how many rooms?"

Mire stopped for a moment, "What riddle is this?"  
"It's an air question. Get you thinking logically."  
"It's impossible."  
"No it isn't." Catlyn answered, "Now, come on, we have a job to do."

* * *

Scrooge invited them into his study.

Mire put the books down on the table. A little girl in pink and grey of about ten years old appeared at the door.  
"Hi, I'm Webby. Sorry about the whole arrow thing earlier."  
"No, not at all." Catlyn said lightly, "My little sister Rosie's just like you. My name's Catlyn. It's very nice to meet you."

* * *

Catlyn turned back to Scrooge McDuck and Hooter realised she was going to lead this conversation.

"Mr McDuck. We've pinned down a freak occurrence in 1672. We believe F.O.W.L. is digging it up. It's my educated opinion that the Vampire Master suffered an existential crisis in the middle of battling whatever it was that came down and dusted herself. My grandfather sent us here to surrender the case to you. We're now your team."

Scrooge frowned. "Sorry... did you just say F.O.W.L. is digging up a Vampire Master?"  
Hooter cleared his throat, "In terms of destructive capability, I'm sure it's the very large, unidentified alien they're after."  
"I'll grant you that's the main event," Scrooge accepted.

"If it were but a dragon I would happily take lead." Mire declared, "But a dragon come to earth would not make a mine collapse at such a great distance. It would have to drive hard directly at the entrance to cause a cave in. Even then, it would not take a day and night for so many able hands to draw through the rubble."

* * *

Scrooge McDuck paused and looked at Catlyn. "You showed some talent out in the graveyard, lass. How would you think to deal with such a beast?"  
Catlyn frowned, "...Mire, can you change into a bat or a wolf?"  
Mire shook his head. "Impossible."

A moment later Catlyn vanished in favour of a ginger tabby. She bounded over to Webby, circled her legs, stood up on her back paws and demanded a pat. Then she bounded across the room, jumped on top of the table and shifted into a snake. She let out a hiss, before shifting into a bat and swept around the room to return back to her original position as her regular self.

"Sorry, what were you saying was 'impossible'?" Catlyn folded her arms, "We'd need at least four dragons and a hole bunch of space. If I can teach Mire to turn into a dragon-."

_"I will not ever do such a thing!"_ Mire glared at her in righteous indignation.

"...So we only have two dragons plus a pile of dust that could've. Oh, and as big as that thing is, that pit's not big enough to allow much turning space. It'd have to come up first before we could go at it. There ends my strategy. Agent Hooter, your turn."

Hooter cleared his throat, "F.O.W.L. created some high tech gadgetry to act as defences in the facility. They're armed with the usual. Out on the grounds, if any have survived our interference, they have tanks. Darkwing has gone to repair and do whatever he can to get the technology aimed at the creature should it raise itself. It's a very deep pit it's in. If it's alive, it will have a long journey against gravity for whatever that is worth. The Assistant Director has been informed of the potential of this situation. If we fail our mission, she'll hand the matter over to National Defence."

"And they'll blow the place to kingdom come and whoever is in a three block radius from it." Scrooge finished. "It is good to have so many options. Has Darkwing discussed the matter with Morgana?"

"Morgana's looking into it." Catlyn answered, "Mr McDuck, the spell you're thinking of is unbalanced magic. That's level thirteen. Morgana's only level ten." Catlyn sighed. "Justin can do unbalanced magic but he's not a switchable piece."

Catlyn closed her eyes, "That thing came through the atmosphere. It's no marshmallow. It crashed that far into the ground, it's no rain drop. I dunno with eldritch; do we even have physics on our side? Air's not a thing, it came from space so water's not a thing..." She took a breath. "Morgana will get creative but she won't come up with much more than those robots. Only me and my dad can turn into full sized dragons-."

"No need to panic there, lass. We've got more than a fair share to get rid of this thing." Scrooge said calmly. "All of you go with Mrs Beakley and get yourselves a cup of tea. I'll look into these books you brought."

Catlyn nodded. "Come on Mire, let's take a break."

* * *

Hooter turned to Scrooge as the others had finished leaving.  
He frowned, "You cut her off."  
"Ach, Hooter, ye not know the sound of a child panicking when you hear it?"  
"She's not a child, she talks in adult terms. She describes him as her patient."  
"Feh." Scrooge scoffed at him and sat down to read the older book.

Hooter regarded the journal. "I'm not sure why they brought that one to you. Aaron's the one that got buried under that tree."  
"Aye, I a'know. Hooter, you've made a two hour trip. Then ye helped me out in the graveyard. I'm sure if ye ask, Mrs Beakley will fix you a coffee instead of a tea. Either way, leave me be for a spell. I have a lot of reading and a lot of thinking to do. I'll send for you when I'm ready."

Hooter nodded. "Yes, sir."

* * *

It was dawn when Scrooge got them back into the study.

Scrooge McDuck looked tired, several old books piled on his desk.

"The vampire skill that Webby talked about." He closed his eyes, "The Vampire Master has mastered all the vampire skills. She can do it."

Catlyn paused, watching him. "Mire, could you wait outside?" She sat down opposite McDuck. "Going back a step: a 'Master Vampire' has all the skills, the 'Vampire Master' holds civic order. I'm not saying she's not both but I'm not happy with how she handled this situation the first time. So, what skill are we after?"

Scrooge gazed at her. "The ability to manipulate life energy. She sent her life energy up into that tree, she can do the same with the eldritch. She probably just didn't think of it."

Catlyn looked away. "I need to take a walk." She stood up.  
"You don't think it's possible?"  
"Oh, sure!" Catlyn answered with sudden enthusiasm. "Mulching stuff's a basic earth skill; you just need to scale enough. It's just, you know, being a teenager messes with my radar and that woman makes me super catty. It's a mondo uncool combo." She left the room.

Hooter raised an eyebrow and looked back to Scrooge.  
"Told ye." Scrooge chuckled and started filing his books away.

* * *

The phone rang.

Scrooge picked up. "Donald? It's good to hear from you!" Scrooge said cheerfully, "How's your holiday going?" He frowned, "...Sorry, the what?" He listened, "...Della's friends? Bless them! Where'd they land?" There was a long moment "...That's a good number." Another delay. "...Don't worry a thing, lad, we'll be right over to pick 'em up."

Scrooge hung up and looked at Hooter, "You wouldn't believe this, Hooter, but we have a mini invasion force from the moon to help us battle that thing now."  
"The moon? Are they anything like the Insectians?"  
"No, Donald's more worried about the National Defence showing up before we have a chance to straighten the matter out."

They headed out into the hall.

Catlyn put away her phone. "You guys ready to go?"


	28. Deep Rumblings

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**64**

**Deep Rumblings**

* * *

Dressed in his eggman costume and armed with a sizeable selection of tools from the F.O.W.L. testing chamber, Drake found the installation's massive junk heap in a lockable room down on the fifth basement level. He busted the lock to make sure 'he' didn't get locked in there and started the massive project of building a defence line.

Drake started with the least damaged droid. He fixed it and then spent a few minutes changing a few lines of code in its program, updated the software and rebooted. Serve and protect.

Now for the next easiest to reassemble droid. Drake went quietly through, methodically putting together the bits. Reprogramming for an unidentified target didn't take too much longer. He saved down the new program to his phone, sent off the droid to standby at the side of the room beside the guard droid and moved on to the next one.

* * *

It was taking Drake upwards from an hour per droid before he got company.

There was the sound of a scuffle by the door.

"Hey, _what'syaname_!" Steelbeak said tersely.

Drake looked around the pile to Steelbeak standing off with the protection droid holding him at bay. Even with a broken arm, Steelbeak was an actual threat if nobody paid attention to him; this was why there was a giant beast on its way to ruin the city's school holidays.

"Yeah, boss?" Drake answered and went back to collecting pieces.  
"Heh, you again." Steelbeak chuckled, easing up his temper and posture. "Whatcha doing?"  
"Playing your game, boss." Drake continued to pick through the parts.  
"Yeah. Right."

Drake fixed the head to the torso. "I think I'm an expert in robotics now."  
"You know you guys aren't too bright? If anything you should'a decommissioned the drill."  
"Ha; did that twice; it's kind of a thankless job." Drake chuckled weakly.  
"You know how hard it is," Steelbeak shrugged, "explaining to your bosses that they're paying your boys waiting around time while the gypsum truck comes back from Boango?"

* * *

Drake continued working.

"Shouldn't there be other guys helping you?"  
"I'm the one who broke it, I'm the best one to fix it."  
"Why do you keep playing the 'fall' guy for everyone?"  
Drake paused, "You gonna be my shrink?"

"I got the time, apparently." Steelbeak chortled, "Either you're just hungry for work, or you got some serious trust issues kicking around in that head of yours."  
Drake frowned, as he continued fixing the parts together, alternating with the pliers and the gaffe tape. "I trust my instincts. I've always had a sixth sense about people. I know when someone's up to something... It's... phrasing, tone, pacing, emotional inflection..." He stopped. Thinking about it there were other giveaways...  
Steelbeak paused. "Yeah, get a lot out of a guy by not playing heavy with him straight away."

Drake shrugged, "So, are you expecting like a monologue from me or something?"  
"Kinda." Steelbeak shrugged. "I got the time for it."

"Well... I think algebra tells a good story on this one. Let's start with 'x' being how many storeys that thing's buried under. Then consider 'y' being the number of storeys that thing can bust through. Now, you could tell me what 'x' is, but nobody knows 'y'. The minute 'x' equals 'y', you and everybody down here are tofu."

Steelbeak paused, "Except for you. That's why you haven't called S.H.U.S.H. for back up and get them to decommission the drill... You're a bleeding heart, geek," Steelbeak complained, "All this time you been dodging my boys being careful not to hurt 'em, but now you're just gonna let them be chomped on by that thing?" How are you gonna sleep knowing how many guys have died because you didn't even try pulling them out? How're you gonna sleep, knowing it's your fault?"

Drake set his phone to update the droid's program. "Because I'm lying, obviously." He turned around the junk pile, picking up more pieces, "My conscience has to do with what I 'can', not what I 'can't' and what I 'can' do is build that thing some roller-skates." He gestured to the line of droids.  
"Oh..." Steelbeak uttered.

"Oh, you're kidding me! You put some other guy in charge of the big plan and _that's your big plan_?!"  
"Yeah." Drake smiled, "nice chatting with you."

* * *

There was a low level rumble that shook the room lightly.

Drake paused, appreciating the feeling of dread washing over him. "Well, that's weird."

"Eh?" Steelbeak shook himself lightly, "What is?"

"I don't know, I've spent a lot of time studying people, I guess." He opened the door and woke up three of the other droids. Hopefully they could keep it downstairs for a bit longer.

He pulled his phone away from the last droid as it finished updating and texted to Hooter.

_It's alive._

Drake continued assembling the next droid.

* * *

Over the next few hours the rumbling grew louder.

"Ain't you tired?" Steelbeak asked.  
"In the middle of a siege?"  
The walls shook.  
"Just an idea, but maybe we should get outta here?"

Drake abandoned the droid repair. "Yeah." He went to the security droid and reprogrammed it. Steelbeak left and the droid went out shortly after. Drake left the room and headed upstairs, the walls were cracked and already showing signs of coming apart.

Level four.

Level three.

* * *

The noise kept rising till it was ear shattering. Crashing, tearing, ripping, screeching, rending of metal.

Level two.

Cement was coming away, starting to fall.

Level one.

The thing from below was bringing down the entire place. Drake scrabbled up to ground level just as the staircase caved away from his feet. He raced through the cafeteria to get under the front door supports just as everything gave way.

* * *

Ears buzzing, Drake struggled against the slabs of cement blocking him in. He pushed against the haphazard walls of his accidental prison, pushing sideways, digging upwards.

Exhausted, bruised and beaten, Drake at last managed to the top of the pile and tumbled haphazardly down to the ground in a shower of cement fragments and dust.

"Ouch." Every bone and muscle in his body ached. A tentacle erupted through the rubble nearby, causing a dangerous mini avalanche of cement. Drake scrabbled out of the way of the cement.

There was a sudden laser blast at the tentacle. From his left.

Drake coughed, looking over dazedly at his help. A pair of rubber-soled shoes, lab coat, a woman with medium length, dark brown hair in the morning light. Another tentacle dug its way out through the heap towards them. Doctor Bellum fired the laser gun at it.

Watching as more rubble fell from the mound, Drake started getting up.

The laser sounded again and he felt a flash of searing white pain.


	29. Battle

_A/n: I really love a good sci fi tornado, and I know Disney's DuckTales crew will make (if not already have made) a very awesome episode with the Moonlanders. I'm super looking forward to seeing those scenes between Penumbra, Lunaris, Donald, Scrooge and Della, but not at the expense of this story's lineal cohesion. So I guess what I'm trying to say here is: I haven't written a sci-fi novel, and I'm sorry... but, hey, I'd love to read yours!_

_:) Thank you for the reviews, guys. Hopefully the next story ticks some of your wish-list boxes! _

_I will have an __honest __look at whether I can write the WW2 stuff (in the future because darn, time IS real unfortunately, I can't keep ignoring it) but I question my ability on sustaining historical accuracy for the period being the matter that I'm a sci-fi/vampire/word geek whose favourite weapon is a sword. If it's a WW2 story with me, I expect it'll have a very weird Doctor Who/Star Trek aftertaste._

* * *

_Lasers, race cars, aeroplanes... It's a duck blur... Might solve a mystery..._

* * *

**And the Rest is History**

* * *

**65**

**Battle**

* * *

With a ripping, earth shaking roar, the building under construction burst asunder. Shrapnel fell inwards more than out in a belch of dust and noise. Multiple tentacles writhed amidst the rubble, continuing to bring down the remaining I-beams.

The thing from the pit had surfaced.

Having up till this minute not entirely believed Scrooge, General Lunaris and Penumbra, dressed in their gold armour, sounded the attack. Armed with lasers and spears, the purple and blue Moonlanders raced towards the emerging tentacles. Right alongside them was Scrooge's nephew Donald armed with a borrowed small sword and Mire Mallard dressed in full metal knight armour with his hand-and-a-half sword.

Scrooge McDuck watched as Catlyn, still a black with red trim dragon circled the mound then went to ground. Another black dragon with blue trim rose up, taking her place, frittering attacks like a giant raven to the beast.

From out beneath the rubble a bat shot up to the sky.

"That has to be the Vampire Master."

A figure dressed in a heavily quilted tunic and high boots emerged from the rubble, pushing bits of cement aside, trying to find his footing. As he stumbled through, he hewed off a tentacle with his small sword before managing out to the sidewalk.

"And that must be Aaron Mallard."

* * *

"Vampire Master," Scrooge returned his gaze to the sky and the bat, "I have an idea to deal with this!" He called up to it. "But we don't have much time to do it."

The bat swooped down and turned into a tall, thin woman with black hair. "Time?"

"We've got eight minutes." Hooter stated, from beside Scrooge.  
"You can make a tree out of that thing." Scrooge pointed.  
The vampire stared at them. "That's an immense undertaking!"  
_"I know you can do it so don't tell me you can't!"_

* * *

Suddenly the dark night began to light up with a brightening glittering moonlight effect. Scrooge wondered what it was, until he realise it was coming from the eldritch. It's purple flesh was turning into a glimmering iridescence. Over it, Catlyn in duck shape hung, suspended in the air, hands reaching out to the eldritch beneath.

With a dramatic burst of shimmering flecks of purple, a tide of energy particles washed out in a dazzling shock wave.

* * *

As Scrooge's sight returned, the eldritch was gone along with all signs of rubble. It was just a flat blank piece of ground.

Catlyn came gently back to earth in the middle of the lot and the glowing purple slowly faded away from the vast blank space that was now the lot.

**"Malduck!"** An unfamiliar male voice erupted, Aaron Mallard, purple eyes, turned at once on the vampire opposite Scrooge, "You meet your end here!"  
_"Stand down!"_ Scrooge bellowed, _"That's an order of civic command! _We need her."

Aaron stopped his sword, and slowly lowered it. He was shaking, seething as he turned his eyes on Scrooge. "Then it is her fate to suffer her existence." He sheathed his small sword at his hip.  
**"Begone, Malduck, and do not ever darken my path again!"**

Malduck vanished into the air.

Aaron turned on his heel back to the lot. "I return..." He paused, "A knight causing an affray?"

Scrooge looked over to the lot, the Moonlanders backing away from a scene. The metal armoured Mire Mallard trying to get at Catlyn with his sword.

* * *

"Mire!" Scrooge yelled, hurrying to the edge of the encircled crowd, "Have you taken leave of your senses? That's Catlyn!"

"It is not!" Mire quacked, "It is the blaggard that killed her, wearing her feathers." Mire shifted from attack pose to stand in a kind of vertical block.

_"Ah, what are you-..." _Catlyn exclaimed.

In a wash of black, the image of Catlyn became a grey and back costumed duplicate of Darkwing Duck.

* * *

"Okay, two things." Darkwing held up his fingers, "How did you know how to do that and _how the heck did you know to do it?!_" He finished in exclamation, "There is absolutely no way _anyone_ could've seen through that."

_"You killed Catlyn!"_ With both hands, Mire swung the sword.  
Darkwing stopped the air around it, flinching. "Uh, can you hold that thought-."  
Mire wrenched the sword clear out of the airlock and swung it heavy.

Darkwing dodged out of the way. "Didn't your mother teach you not to play with knifes?"  
_"I don't have a mother!"_ Mire raged back. He spun around in an arc from Darkwing, raising his sword in a defensive cross block.  
"Wait, what are you-_no!_" Darkwing staggered, _"No-I need that!"_ He fell to the ground with a pained groan.

Mire stood over him in a bitter calm. "Now we put an end to thee, villain." He raised his sword.

* * *

The ground beneath Mire's feet shook, erupting in a rapidly growing tree, rising, trapping him up in its branches.

In Darkwing's place a wereplant stood up. "Not so long as I have an apple seed handy." He mocked, "Oo-oo look at you Mr '_I wanna be a knight_'. Not so tough now, are you?"

Mire fell down from the tree with a heavy clang, got up and lunged at the wereplant with the blade.  
"Argh!"The wereplant dodged in fear. "No fair!" He ran through the circle of Moonlanders, trying to raise trees to catch Mire up again. It didn't work.

"You play too rough!" The wereplant stopped to complain.

Mire swung.

* * *

In that second, the wereplant turned to water and cleaved apart to reform a dog shaped ball of water. "Do you suffer from dehydration? Is that sun just too hot to handle? Why not stop by at one of our free drinking fountains!"

A cement and metal block rose from the ground, spraying Mire with water at the other's touch.

Mire stepped forwards as the ball of water fell back.  
"But wait, there's more!" He said jovially, "For what's a drinking fountain without a place to rest!"

A cement bench rose up out of the ground, tripping Mire up onto the ground.

* * *

"I dunno what to make if this." Scrooge frowned, looking to Aaron, "these are your relatives, Aaron. Shouldn't you be the one to break them up?"  
"I cannot see either way clearly. They look both mad." Aaron frowned.

* * *

More cement benches and trash cans sprang up from the ground. Realising the circle, Mire vaulted across it to get ahead of his opponent. Beneath his feet the ground rose again, tumbling him into a large fountain. Water droplets rained down over him. Mire launched himself out of the bowl, jumping over the cement bench to land his sword at the other's watery heart.

* * *

Behind Mire, the water reshaped to a clown costumed duck shape. "Oh-no-no-no, you're doing it all wrong. Isn't he Mr Banana Brain?"  
Mire turned around.  
The clown made a doll appear in his hands, _"You got that right, Mike!"_ He chirped.

Mire gave a disdainful note in his voice. "One sees the cloth unravelling all too clearly."

The clown somersaulted backwards. _"Play time!"_  
Mire rushed forwards and a kiddie swing set arose from the ground around him, catching him in chains. It was a moment before he had himself free.  
"And what's a swing...?" The clown smiled, jumping another distance away.

Mire jumped but the roundabout rising from the ground was wide. it spun around, catching him. It took him a moment to find his centre and jump off the thing into a clattered heap.

_"For pity's sake, just let him be, Mire!"_ Scrooge begged.

Mire got up off the ground, eyeing the other wearily. "I-."  
The ground erupted into a slide. Mire tumbled down the length to the ground.  
The clown laughed.  
Mire rose to his feet again. "I will see you to your end."

"See?" The clown blinked, "Is daylight not good enough?"

The clown suddenly changed shape into a rat in a yellow jumpsuit, "Then let's get luminous!"  
Mire stepped forwards.  
"Now, hands up kids, who wants to do a little science experiment in metal conductivity?" The electric rodent flung a bolt of electricity at him.

Mire staggered backwards.  
The rat fell back in a pant, reshaping down to a child dressed in the black cape and hat version of Darkwing Duck's costume. The boy sat down on the ground, curling up his knees and lowering his head into his arms. "You lied to me, my whole life, you lied." He sobbed.

Mire stepped forwards, raising his sword.  
_"That's enough, Mire!"_ Scrooge ordered.

* * *

An arrow hit Mire's hand and the sword fell to the ground.

Mire pulled the arrow from his metal glove, staring at his injured hand. "What...?"

A sudden speed towards him from the direction of the arrow. The woman wore purple, a mask. Like Darkwing Duck but with red hair. She stopped running and jumped, landing both feet against Mire's metal plated chest, bringing him to the ground with a heavy clatter.

_"What is wrong with you? He's down!"_ She yelled at him. She turned away, kneeling beside the child version of Darkwing. "Dad? Dad?"

There was a long moment of silence.

The woman slowly stood up, turning to Mire. "You... drained him of his sanity." She gazed hotly at him. "You've sent him completely insane. _He can't recover from this!_"  
"His weakness," Mire replied. "If you step aside, I will do my duty." Mire raised his sword.  
With a hard fist, the woman knocked the weapon from his hand. She seized the sword and rammed it straight down into the ground. Then she took up her bow and shot a net at him.

The woman ripped a metal device out from under her purple vest. She crushed it in her gloved hand and flung it into a trash can.  
"Dad?" She said more softly, "Dad?" She knelt down beside the black clothed child. "Hungry, dad." She said softly. "You need blood."  
He seized her in sudden tight embrace, burying fangs into her neck.

Scrooge flinched. Darkwing was a vampire. If all other evidence wasn't enough.

Several moments passed. He released, returning back to adult size. "Gosalyn? _Gosalyn, No!_"  
"My vespers." She laboured.  
"My baby girl..." He sobbed, holding her close in his arms.

A stillness came over her.

* * *

She moved in sudden motion and in another moment she had returned the bite.

* * *

Slowly Gosalyn stood up and walked towards Scrooge. Behind her, her father gazed after her for a moment before turning into a bat and flying off.

"What devil was it that I faced and lost today?" Mire exclaimed quietly to himself.

"I am the Quiverwing Quack." The woman introduced herself to Scrooge and Lunaris, "I am First Assistant to the Director of S.H.U.S.H.. My chief strategies are diplomacy and elimination. Now. How may I help you people tonight?" She turned her gaze on Lunaris.

Scrooge stepped in front of Lunaris standing by his side, "They're looking for cultural exchange; tourism, resource sharing, sports tournaments that sort of thing. Friendly."  
"There's quite a lot of them here to do that..."  
"They _'really'_ want to try our cuisine." Scrooge answered hastily. "My niece has filled their heads with stories and they wanted to come see for themselves."  
"So long as that's all it is." Quiverwing eyed Lunaris. "We accept friends but we will not stand for any kind of threat; just as you've seen." She gazed back at Scrooge, "I'll leave the friendly cultural exchange in your capable hands, Agent McDuck." She turned into a bat and flew off.

Scrooge released the unconscious breath he'd been holding and stepped over to Mire who was still getting free of the last of the net.

"What the devil possessed you, man? Why's it so important that he meet his end?"  
"He is the one who killed Catlyn."  
_"Catlyn!"_ Scrooge called fiercely.

A gentle quietness stepped up beside him. Mire's body straightened under his armour.  
"You didn't give us a chance to swap back, Mire." Catlyn explained in a sorrowful tone.  
"Now our Assistant Director is a vampire." Scrooge summarised, "And a very intense one at that."  
Catlyn shrugged, "That was going to happen eventually... and she's always been intense."

"You're not very concerned." Scrooge turned, frowning at her. "Her own daughter?"  
"Hey, at least she's not a Vampire Slayer anymore." Catlyn bid for some positive consideration in the matter. "That was a real drag. The VM drove mum so mad sometimes."

Scrooge watched after Catlyn. She was bringing up more trees from the ground. Bushes, flowers, grass.

Hooter stepped up beside her, "I though he said he had the apple seed in his pocket."  
"Vampires have very deep pockets." Catlyn answered, "You need me to help rescue your car, huh?"  
Donald stepped forward and handed his sword to Catlyn. "Thanks for the loan."

Scrooge turned away back to his guests. "General Lunaris. How about we settle somewhere for some food? I know you lot were interested in trying that."

"Yes..." Lunaris found his voice, "Let's."


End file.
